White Lie
by Ky II
Summary: Draco lies to Harry to save his own life after being relentlessly pursued by a group of ex-Death Eaters out for his blood. The plan had been simple; get in Harry's good books and be protected by the all-powerful Savior. He never expects that the hastily created lie would come true, nor that keeping the lie a secret from Harry would be so very difficult. Draco POV DM/HP Slash
1. The Perfect Lie

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any characters or settings mentioned in this story. This is a non-profit fanfiction, and all named characters and settings are the copyrighted property of J.K. Rowling.

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Draco ran.

He had no more energy, having just Apparated across the entire country of Great Britain nonstop for the past week with his pursuers just a second behind him. Draco was worn out; he hadn't slept in days, and he couldn't even remember the last time he had actually eaten food. Real food, that is. Not the measly portions of gruel that he'd had to consume during his desperate attempts to escape his pursuers, hastily scarfed down half cold and clotted. Draco couldn't Apparate anymore; he was so exhausted he'd be sure to splinch himself if he even tried. He had no other means of escape, so Draco did the only thing he could. He ran.

He couldn't return to the Manor; they had ambushed Draco and his mother there a week ago in the middle of the night. Narcissa had been killed instantly in her sleep with the Killing Curse, and Draco hadn't even had time to mourn her death before he was forced in this ridiculous game of cat and mouse with his very life at stake. Draco ignored the dry scrape at the back of his throat and the sting in his eyes; the unshed tears for his mother a constant reminder of the family he had lost.

He was being chased by some remaining Death Eaters that had escaped the trials to Azkaban three years past who were still loyal to the Dark Lord, believing him able to rise once more. Most of the Death Eaters had been rounded up and exiled to the wizarding prison, sentenced to the Dementor's Kiss, but a few who had high standing in the Ministry had managed to bribe or convince their way out of the laws, claiming having been threatened into working for the Dark Lord or acting under the influence of the Imperius Curse. Yaxley, Dolohov, the Carrow twins, Rookwood, and some others that they had managed to recruit to their cause were now all determined to hunt Draco down, for his betrayal of their Lord and his family's defection to the Light. Narcissa, who was the one who had lied to the Dark Lord about Potter's death, was dead. Lucius, who had been a prominent Death Eater before his fall from favor, was either dead or rotting in Azkaban for life. Now there was only Draco, who had refused to identify Harry Potter in his Manor and whose wand was the one that finally defeated the Dark Lord in the Battle of Hogwarts.

Draco knew that running away from them with his tail between his legs was something that no Malfoy would ever have willingly done. Draco longed to turn and fight those that dared to kill his mother; those who dared to break into the Manor and destroy his home. Draco would have tried to fight, if there was only one or two of them. But five known ex-Death Eaters, along with several others, was too much for even Draco Malfoy to handle alone.

Focusing back to making his way through the winding alleys without getting lost, Draco ran down the twisting lanes of Knockturn Alley, hoping to lose his pursuers in the tangle of cobbled streets and shortcuts. He shoved past sketchy looking shopkeepers and wizards dressed in dark cloaks, taking no heed of those he knocked down or the angry shouts that were thrown at his back. Draco didn't care what those disgruntled wizards wanted, or even what they thought of him with his unshaven face and mud streaked robes. When it came down to it, his life was more important than his appearance. And so he kept on running, occasionally looking back to see whether he had lost his pursuers or not.

Turning a final corner, Draco spotted the familiar light and heard the gentle clamor of Diagon Alley. Draco scrambled to a halt and started to backtrack, aiming for the nearest turnoff back into the shadowy depths of Knockturn Alley. Draco knew that if he ran out into the open road of Diagon Alley proper, he'd be no more than a sitting duck for Yaxley and the rest to kill.

Almost as soon as Draco turned around, four shadowy forms materialized from black smoke halfway down the alley, their hooded faces revealing snarling teeth and glinting eyes; the eyes of the hunter closing in on their prey. The four figures blocked the alley, forcing Draco to skid to a stop and have no choice but to run back towards the opening to Diagon Alley, dodging curses and hexes that flew in streams of light from behind him. Covering his head with one arm as the bricks of the wall beside him exploded after being hit by a curse, Draco took out his own wand and randomly shot stunners behind him, not even looking to see whether they hit or not. Adrenaline pumping through his veins, Draco had only one coherent thought. Escape.

_I am the last of the Malfoys. I will not die like this._

Bursting out into the sunny English afternoon that enveloped Diagon Alley and all its shoppers in warmth, Draco frantically dove into the crowds, weaving his way through the scattered shoppers and going as fast as he could through the crowds. A few of the wizards and witches glared at him; his face was well known as an ex-Death Eater, after all, while a few others shouted insults to his back and one red-faced wizard even had the audacity to throw dragon's dung at him from the doorway of the Apothecary.

Grimacing as the smelly dung hit him on the side of his head and covered half his face, Draco hurriedly wiped his eyes free of the excrement to clear his vision, continuing to run but swearing that he would pay the unknown man back some day. The stench of the dung was appalling, especially since the stuff was right in his nose, dripping down his neck, clogging one of his ears. Draco swiped as much of the dung as he could off of himself, but it was far from completely gone.

Dodging people, animals, and owls as he went, Draco could feel his pursuers closing in on him. Their amusement at watching their prey struggle frantically through the crowds was almost tangible to Draco, and their gazes bore holes into the back of his filthy robes. Draco felt his desperation rise with every step. He was bloody Draco Malfoy, for Merlin's sake. He refused to be killed with dung covering his face and wearing filthy clothes, unshaven and shot down like a petty criminal. He refused to just be killed by those who had killed his mother, with no chance of getting revenge. Draco Malfoy had survived the War, had lived in the same house as the Dark Lord himself, and he was damn sure he was going to do anything to survive being hunted down by a few cocky ex-Death Eaters and a couple of wannabes.

He would do _anything._

A flash of wild black hair appeared at the edge of his vision. Draco's head swerved almost automatically in that direction, running past two portly witches that blocked his view and taking in the all too familiar sight of the Golden Trio across the street and a couple ways down the Alley from him.

Draco hadn't seen the Golden Trio for three years. The last time he had seen them was during the Death Eater Trials, when Potter had stood up and spoken in favor of clemency for his mother and himself, declaring them having defected to the Light and personally aided in the defeat of the Dark Lord. Back then, Potter had still been pale and weary from his miraculous defeat of the most powerful Dark Lord in Wizarding history, and the Weasley and Granger hadn't been much better off. Now, though, they looked almost the same as from Draco's memories of when they had all been in school together, back before the War had changed all their lives.

The only difference was that they were all three years older, but that was it. Weasley was still towering and freckled, with his shock of carrot red hair that stood stark against his pale skin. Granger was still bushy-haired and with a stack of books in her arms, talking incessantly. Potter was, well, Draco thought, Potter was still lean and slight, his eyes that unearthly green and his hair a tangled mess. Those horrid glasses were still stuck on his face, and Draco almost smirked, if not for his current situation. Continuing to run, Draco had no choice but to head closer towards the Trio, hoping that the three wouldn't see him as he passed.

A bright stream of light flew right over his shoulder, leaving behind a nasty gash from where the curse had skimmed him. Ignoring the waves of agony that rippled over his shoulder from the bleeding wound, Draco ducked across the street, trying to avoid the curses that he was sure must follow. Panic and pain gave Draco a burst of speed, and he looked over his shoulder to try and see his pursuers through the crowd of shoppers. Still running while looking behind him, Draco didn't notice the Trio right in front of him until he crashed headlong into the Hero of the Wizarding World himself, the surprisingly strong body knocking the breath out of Draco, and Draco's momentum sending them both tumbling to the ground.

There was a moment of silence as Draco tried to get his bearings, wondering what the soft squirming thing underneath him was. Draco opened his eyes that had involuntarily closed in the collision, getting a faceful of soft black hair that smelled of fresh soap and, surprisingly, baked pastries.

"What?" Confused green eyes peered up at Draco, slightly unfocused and hazy from being body slammed onto the cobbles of Diagon Alley. Draco had fallen right on top of Potter, his arms the only thing supporting him over the smaller man. Draco realized what he had done and a sinking feeling flooded through him. He was in the middle of running for his life. He really didn't want to deal with the no doubt long-winded furious tirade of the Trio for knocking over their precious Hero right now. Potter would probably rant at him for daring to touch his precious Hero's body, while the rest of the Trio did whatever sidekicks did when their Hero was pushed to the ground.

But it seemed as if he had no choice; he had to face the Trio. Either he was the unluckiest Slytherin in history or Merlin's ghost was spitting on him in the twisted parody of a joke, Draco felt a large, rough hand clamp down on the back of his neck and was dragged to his feet by the back of his collar, almost lifted bodily off of Potter. Draco looked up with indignation at whoever dared to touch him, a _Malfoy_, in so disrespectful a manner, and almost had his eyes burned out of their sockets from the blaring red that confronted him.

Weasley's hair was as shockingly red as ever, he was wearing bright, eye-burning crimson Auror's robes, and now his face and neck were flushed an unhealthy hue as well from a combination of anger and surprise. Draco grimaced with distaste at the Weasley; he could've passed for a Metamorphmagus, from the shocking color he was achieving. "Who the hell do you think you are?" Weasley began, shouting loudly directly in Draco's face, his breath making Draco wrinkle his nose in disgust. Draco blinked for a second, while Weasley peered at him with furious blue eyes.

Suddenly, a spark of recognition flashed through the Weasel's expression, and his face turned even redder, the edges taking on a purple tinge. "_Malfoy?" _Weasley exclaimed incredulously, still holding Draco immobile by the back of his neck. Draco saw his gaze take in the muddy robes, the dirty hair, the unshaven face, and the dragons dung half covering his head. Weasley grimaced with disdain and held Draco further away from himself. "Hi there, Malfoy. Didn't recognize you in your… uh, new look."

Draco sighed as the stupidity of the Weasel was reinforced in his mind. "Yes, Weasley," Draco said irritably, his legs itching to take off and keep running when he felt Yaxley and the others closing in. "It's me. Glad to see you. On second thought, not really. I only met you again by accident. I'd appreciate it if you would let me go now. Then I'll just be on my way and we can both pretend we never saw each other." The words were short and fast, and Draco hoped the Weasel would just do as he was told for once and let him go.

Weasley's eyebrows sank down into a frown. "You bet I won't let you go, Malfoy. Who knows what dirty tricks you've got hidden behind that ferret face of yours. You probably bumped into Harry for a reason. Thinking up some sort of nasty plan now, are we?" Weasley brought his face closer to Draco's, and Draco sneered in disgust, his urge to escape temporarily overridden by his dislike of the Weasley.

"I told you, I bumped into Potter by accident. Now let me go."

Weasley shook his head. "How do you expect us to believe that? You're probably conspiring with the rest of your ex-Death Eater mates-"

Suddenly, a light, playful voice interrupted Weasley's low rumble. "Ron. Get off it. No need to harass Malfoy, the War's been over for three years. It was probably just a mistake, like he said. Let him go."

Draco turned to see that Potter had picked himself up off the ground, dusting off his robes and adjusting his glasses. "I'm glad to see at least one of the Trio has a fully functioning brain," Draco remarked, before cursing his own tongue when Weasley tightened his grip on the back of his neck.

Potter rolled his eyes. "I won't fight you, Malfoy, but that doesn't mean you can go around insulting my friends. Now if you don't have any business with us, you can go."

Draco snorted, but a flash of black smoke on the edges of Diagon Alley alerted him that his pursuers had finally caught up, after a grueling week of trying to escape from them. Draco looked around frantically, but the sinking feeling in his gut told him already that there was no way for him to escape. Even if he ran as hard as he could, his pursuers would be on him in seconds.

But the confusing thing was why Yaxley didn't give the go-ahead to just kill him right then and there. Draco knew that Yaxley didn't have the slightest scruples about killing in broad daylight, and his continued waiting was perplexing. The dark forms lingered in the shadows cast by the buildings in the alley, so discreet that none but Draco, who knew they were there, would be able to see them.

"Malfoy? Hello? Did you hear me?" Potter's voice brought Draco back to the situation at hand, as Potter snapped his fingers in front of Draco's face.

His Slytherin brain going a mile a minute, Draco quickly put all the puzzle pieces together. This was Harry Potter in front of him, the Hero of the Wizarding World, the Savior of Light, plus his two sidekicks Weasley and Granger. Harry Potter was probably the most powerful wizard alive, and Yaxley didn't want to attack Draco when Potter was anywhere near the vicinity, especially since Potter and Weasley were both full-fledged Aurors and Granger was well known for knowing more spells than the average library. Draco almost smirked at his luck. It seemed that Merlin wasn't spitting on him after all, since Draco had probably found the one thing that would deter Yaxley on his hunt for Draco's life.

But now the problem was in keeping the Trio close to him, and Draco knew that it would take a lot to convince them, Weasley especially, that Draco wasn't up to some devious plan.

Looking directly at Potter, who stood several inches shorter than Draco, he thought about everything that he could say, all the lies that he could create, that would best convince the Hero to stay by his side for an indefinite amount of time. Draco's mind whirred as it brought forward everything he had read about the Golden Boy in the papers in the past three years; gala conferences, award ceremonies, the Hero's support in various charities. None of them were useful. Suddenly, Draco remembered a front-page headline from more than two years ago, directly after the War; 'The Savior Comes Out'. It had displayed a huge picture of Potter breaking up with Ginevra Weasley, and the article stated that the reason behind it was because the Hero that everyone looked up to had finally revealed himself to fancy blokes.

Draco smirked to himself. What better way to get the Hero to do what you wanted than to appeal to his Gryffindor side of honesty and chivalry? Draco hoped that the article had been accurate and that Potter hadn't somehow went back to being straight after three years. Other than that, Draco was almost certain that his plan would work. Potter had always had a disgustingly strong faith in ridiculous notions like love, anyways. Draco suppressed his enmity with Potter and forced himself to put on a forlorn façade, knowing that his rivalry with the other man was nothing in the face of lying for his life. Potter's arrogance and cockiness would be hard to live with, but Draco would endure and bide his time, until the time came when he would finally be able to avenge his mother.

"Potter," Draco said seriously, his Slytherin abilities to fake emotions on full blast and turning an uncertain, hopeful expression to face the dark haired man. Draco swallowed his grimace at what he was about to say next, making sure that his disguise was perfect, "I love you."

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**Author's Note:** My newest story! Yay. It's not gonna be _that _long, probably just 60k or so. Anyways, hope you like it so far. Please review!


	2. A Matter of Trust

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any characters or settings mentioned in this story. This is a non-profit fanfiction, and all named characters and settings are the copyrighted property of J.K. Rowling.

* * *

The moment the words were out of Draco's mouth, he internally winced at their utter Hufflepuff tone. Malfoys didn't concern themselves with such unrefined emotions like love, and Draco would never have said anything of the nature if his life hadn't been in peril. His hopeful expression stayed on his face though, and Draco made sure his eyes were unreadable as Potter stared at him, studying his face. After a brief moment while the Trio digested the information, it was Weasley who finally broke the silence with an outraged shout.

"You _what?"_

Draco turned his face to Weasley, making his expression turn into one of embarrassment. It was hard to keep it on, though, when Draco's natural instinct was to sneer at the redhead. "I fell in love with him," Draco repeated quietly, hiding his irritation at having to repeat himself with some difficulty. "I loved him ever since I first saw him, in Madam Malkin's shop." Draco was grasping at straws, his mind weaving an epic tale of suppressed desire that would be detailed enough to convince the most skeptical wizard. Draco only hoped that the Trio would buy it.

"When I first saw him, I fell in love with him. I wanted to impress him, so I acted like a bastard. When I saw that he wasn't swayed by my family name, I knew I did something wrong, but by that time he had already finished getting his robes and he was gone." Draco took a deep breath, pretending to compose himself, but in reality giving himself more time to come up with the rest of his tale.

"Then, when I found out who the mysterious green-eyed boy was, that he was the famous Harry Potter, I was so surprised, and I just loved him even more. I wanted to be his friend, and I held out my hand to him, hoping that he would take it. But he rejected me."

Weasley raised his eyebrows, no doubt remembering that incident before their first year at Hogwarts. Draco laughed at him in the back of his mind. His father had told him long ago that in order for lies to be more believable, they had to contain a grain of truth. Draco could see that Weasley had already taken the bait.

"I was so angry, and so hurt, that the wonderful boy I had met didn't want to be my friend. I was young, and I didn't know how to handle it properly. I wanted him to think of me as often as I thought of him, so I did that the only way I could. I lashed out at him, and tried my best to make him suffer as much as his rejection had hurt me. All these years, Potter, I've continued loving you. In my heart, there was always a spot where you burned like the sun, never fading or far from my thoughts."

Draco finished with a flourish, bowing his head as if humbled by his recounting of his love for the other man. Draco waited with bated breath for one of the Trio to respond, to know whether they accepted his story or not. Draco could feel the furious auras of Yaxley and the others from not far behind him, and Draco almost laughed at their helplessness. In the face of Potter's constant protection, albeit given unknowingly by the other man, Yaxley wouldn't be able to do a thing.

It was Granger who spoke up. "What I don't understand is, why are you telling us all this now, when you've kept it hidden for the past ten years?" her voice was thick with disbelief, and her hands holding the stack of books was the only part Draco could see of her from under his lowered head.

"I was too hurt at first to tell it to anybody," Draco said, making his voice a whisper and deliberately adding a small tremble for effect. "I didn't want anyone to know. And then things got complicated, what with the rise of the Dark Lord. I couldn't reveal my connection to Potter, or else the Dark Lord would've killed my family and myself immediately. Then, after the War, there was so much going on, so much hatred directed at ex-Death Eaters, I couldn't step a foot outside the Manor. It was only recently that I've been able to come out and walk freely in public, and just a few days ago that I've been able to gather enough courage to finally confess."

Looking up from the corner of his eyes, Draco saw Granger purse his lips, obviously reluctantly accepting his reasons, since she could have no valid argument against them. Draco had made sure his story was airtight, and the fact that he supposedly hadn't revealed the secret to anyone else before further shielded his story in case Granger or Weasley took it into their heads to go questioning Draco's old schoolmates about his 'crush'. On Draco's other side, Weasley was still staring at him suspiciously, but didn't look overly hostile anymore. Draco breathed an almost undetectable sigh of relief, before looking in front of him to Potter.

Potter's green eyes were thoughtful as they regarded him from behind the thin barrier of glass. Potter's eyes were unreadable, a surprising fact for Draco, who could usually read anybody at a glance. Draco made his eyes shine with hope, which was made more genuine by the fact that Draco truly did hope that Potter would buy his story. Granger and Weasley also looked towards Potter, Weasley keeping his grip firm on the back of Draco's neck.

Potter didn't smile, and his eyes remained unreadable to Draco when he replied. "I don't believe you, Malfoy. You're doing this for a reason." Draco's heart sank. If Potter and his friends left him now, Yaxley would be on him within seconds, and his death was guaranteed to be all the more prolonged and painful, since Yaxley never liked to be kept waiting. But before Draco could argue, Potter continued, "But I don't think you mean us any harm. So now that you've confessed, what do you want? You wouldn't have just come here and just spontaneously confessed your love for me for no reason. You're too Slytherin for that." Potter had raised his eyebrows, crossing his arms and waiting.

Draco stifled a smirk. It seemed that Potter knew him better than he had thought, Draco realized. He would have to make his story even more convincing, or else Potter, who seemed to have actually acquired some adequate thinking skills after graduating from Hogwarts, would see through him and figure out his lies.

"A week ago, my mother died," Draco said quietly, and he didn't need to fake the raw pain that edged his voice. "In the Manor. I suppose the stress from living through the War and having Father sent to Azkaban took its toll on her. She died in her sleep." Draco closed his eyes, hating how his long ignored tears resurfaced and how he was losing his composure right in front of the Golden Trio. He may have lied about the circumstances of his mother's death, but that didn't make the fact that she really was gone any more easier to bear. "I buried her on the Manor's grounds a few days ago." _Mother probably wasn't even buried by those bastards that killed her, _Draco thought to himself. "I didn't want to live in the Manor alone, with nothing there but my memories of happier times. I hated being alone in that place. It reminded me of-" Draco took a deep breath, "It reminded me of when _he _was living there," he whispered, and from Granger's sudden inhale Draco knew that they understood he was referring to the Dark Lord. Lifting his head and looking earnestly into Potter's eyes, letting some of his mask slip away, Draco pleaded softly, "Please, Potter. Let me stay with you." Then quietly, almost muttered to himself, Draco added, "I don't want to be alone."

Draco winced internally, hating how much truth he had embedded into his lies. But it would be worth it, if Potter would just _believe _him. Draco knew he was an expert liar, and didn't understand why Potter was taking so long to just accept his 'crush'. Weasley had already bought it; his grip had loosened until his arm was barely resting on Draco's shoulders. Granger had bought it as well, from the way her eyes had teared up when Draco had mentioned his mother.

Looking into Potter's eyes, Draco saw exactly when Potter's eyes softened until they were shining with compassion. Potter's entire face gentled, changing from its rigid emotionless state until Potter was smiling softly at Draco, his eyes so gentle Draco could drown in them. "All right, Malfoy," Potter finally said, matching Draco's quiet tone. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up. You look like you've been all over Britain in those clothes."

Draco ignored the faint tingle of warning from Potter's statement, dismissing it as nothing but coincidence. Potter held out a hand to him, so that he could Side-Along back to Potter's house. Draco took the hand gratefully, since he had no more energy to Apparate himself, and silently admired the irony of the situation; Potter offering his hand to Draco now, when he was the Hero of the Wizarding world and Draco a despised ex-Death Eater, after having rejected Draco's hand ten years ago, when they both had been nothing more than children.

Potter smiled a little as Draco took his hand, and Draco wondered briefly if Potter had had the same train of thought. Potter turned, directing his words to Granger and Weasley, who stood watching them. "I'll see you guys, yeah?"

Granger nodded. "Tomorrow you'll have to tell us _everything_ at work," she said eagerly, glancing over at Draco. Potter sent her an amused smile, then nodded.

"Don't forget, Harry. Dinner at the Burrow on Saturday," Weasley called. Potter raised a hand to show that he understood, before Apparating away with Draco holding firmly onto his hand.

* * *

Draco stumbled slightly after the Apparition, only to be steadied by Potter's hand on his elbow. Nodding his thanks, Draco remembered at the last moment that he had to pretend to be a man hopelessly in love and lowered his eyes, looking away quickly. If Potter noticed anything out of the ordinary, he didn't comment, instead shooting Draco a brief smile before stepping forwards into the center of the street.

It was only then that Draco noticed where they were. A dreadfully ordinary place, surrounded by Muggles on all sides with not a magical family in sight. Draco sighed. He supposed that he should have expected Potter to live in such an unrefined area. Potter had never understood the delicacy of living among the magical folk, after all.

Potter stared at the building in front of them, and Draco turned to look where Potter's gaze was fixed. Nothing happened at first, but then, slowly, the building _shifted. _It revealed another house, squeezed in between its neighbors, which definitely hadn't been there before. Draco's eyes widened and he almost laughed in delight, if he hadn't been so exhausted. So Potter's house was protected by a Fidelius. That would frustrate Yaxley to no end. And Potter had chosen to reveal the place to him, which meant that Draco was now a Secondary Keeper and could enter the house whenever e wanted at will.

Draco was astonished and quite pleased that Potter trusted him enough to willingly show him the location of his house, past the Fidelius. Draco felt slightly guilty for having lied to Potter, but dismissed the emotion. Guilt was not something a Malfoy did.

"Are you coming or not, Malfoy?" Potter called from the doorstep, holding the door open and gesturing inside. Draco hastened up the steps, looking around with wide eyes as he stepped into Potter's home.

* * *

Draco recognized the house, but at the same time, it was completely different.

Draco had often come here when he was young, visiting the most ancient house of Black. But in those times, the house had always been gloomy and creepy, with old house elves' heads hung on the walls and depressing, moldy furniture that were all imbued with some Dark spell or other. But now, under Potter's renovations, the house had suddenly become bright and cozy. Off-white walls were given a yellow hue from the fire that lit automatically in the grate when Potter entered, the flickering light giving the parlor room an intimate atmosphere. Chandeliers hung from the high ceilings, and the furniture was all comforting reds and browns. Moving pictures hung on frames on the walls, and Draco thought he recognized Professor Lupin in one of them, holding a familiar lady by the waist and proudly carrying a newborn child in his arms.

Draco took off his shoes, leaving them by the doorway while Potter did the same. Potter took off his outer robes and hung them on a hook by the door, stepping onto the polished mahogany floorboards in his socks. "Malfoy, the bathroom's this way. I'm sure you'd want to take a bath and change out of those robes of yours," Potter said over his shoulder, making his way up the stairs.

Draco followed, grimacing as his dirty socks left tracks on the floorboards. "I remember this place. This was my great-aunt Walburga's house. How did you get to be owner?" Draco asked curiously.

Potter chuckled good-naturedly, and Draco took a moment to notice that they were actually having a pleasant conversation. A Malfoy and a Potter. Who would've thought it? "I inherited it from my godfather, Sirius Black. He was the last of the Black line, and he left everything to me."

Draco remembered the wallpaper of the family tree somewhere in the recesses of the house. "Hey, I know him. Sirius Black. Wasn't he the excommunicated one who got Sorted into Gryffindor, and then blasted off the family tree?"

Draco saw Potter's back tense, and knew he had said something wrong. "Yes," Potter answered tersely, continuing up the stairs. "Sirius was Sorted into Gryffindor, and he was best friends with my dad. He was an honorable, noble man, who survived thirteen years in Azkaban for a crime he didn't commit. He was a true hero, and he deserves that title more than I deserve mine."

Draco was silent, and it seemed that Potter accepted that as a sort of silent apology. Draco thought over Potter's words. It seemed as if Potter didn't think he deserved the title of Hero, which contradicted all notions Draco had had of the other man. Potter was supposed to be a cocky, arrogant prick, and love attention more than anything. That was partially what had made Draco so sure that confessing his 'love' for Potter would work so well. But it seemed as if the real Potter was anything but. Draco was beginning to realize that his plan might not work out so well as he'd hoped.

Walking down a short hallway, Potter opened a door on the side. "Here's the bathroom. I'll get some of my clothes enlarged for you," Potter measured Draco's sizes with his eyes, and Draco fought down the urge to turn away from his gaze. "Towels are under the sink. Take as long as you like."

Draco nodded to show he understood and walked into the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind him. Looking at himself in the mirror, Draco fought the urge to laugh hysterically. His hair was half congealed in stinking dragon's dung, and the dung covered half his face and the entire right side of his head. Some of his long hair had also been singed short by the curses that had been hurled at him, and there were a multitude of scratches and cuts on his arms and face. His grey eyes made his pale skin look even paler, giving him a slightly sickly appearance. There were dark shadows under his eyes, and his robes were hardly recognizable for the expensive and fine clothes they had once been.

_No wonder Weasley didn't recognize me at first, _Draco thought, _I hardly recognize myself._

Draco raised his arm to take off his outer robes, but at that moment Draco's right arm gave off a throb that had him curling up in pain. "Merlin's balls," Draco swore softly, using his left hand to gently slide off the outer robes. There was a gash three inches deep over his right shoulder, with dragon's dung seeping into the wound and causing it to sting like crazy. Draco's inner robes were stained with the dark crimson of fresh blood, which was hardly visible under the globs of dung.

The arm gave another throb, and started up a constant stream of agony. Draco fell to his knees beside the bathtub, clenching his teeth together and burying his head in the crook of his left arm to muffle his screams. Now that Draco was no longer in imminent danger, his brain had decided to recognize the pain from his shoulder that had been caused by that curse in Diagon Alley. Draco muttered a string of curses into his arm, systematically punctuated by a whimper or a moan when his arm gave off a distinct jab of pain.

"Malfoy? I'll leave the clothes by the door, ok?" Potter's voice came through the bathroom door, sounding far away and muffled to Draco. Draco tried to unclench his teeth to answer, but his jaw had locked itself tight and the most he could manage was a high-pitched whine. Draco leaned on the cabinet doors under the sink and tried to focus on forming words with his obstinate jaw, wanting Potter to just go away so he wouldn't have to be seen like this.

"Malfoy, are you ok in there?" Potter asked again. Draco cursed the other man's stupid Gryffindor tendency to question everything that happened with his goddamn curiosity.

"Mphh fine," Draco answered, the slurred words the best he could manage with his closed jaw.

There was a moment of silence from the other side of the door. "Malfoy, you don't sound fine in there," Potter commented, slightly sarcastically.

Draco growled loudly in frustration, hoping the sound would scare Potter away. It didn't, and Draco had to screw his eyes shut against another wave of pain.

"Should I come in?" Potter asked, worry in his voice, and the doorknob wriggled as Potter tried to open the door. Draco was thankful he had remembered to lock the bloody door before his arm had suddenly exploded in agony.

But Potter was a bloody wizard, as Draco had momentarily forgotten, and a mundane lock was not going to stop him. Draco heard the lock click open after a few seconds, and huddled down against the cabinets, his back to the bathroom door. Draco fought off the embarrassment of having Potter see him crumpled on his bathroom floor, a bleeding smelly mess. Draco closed his eyes, hoping to delusion himself into believing that Potter wasn't there.

Soft hands were on Draco's hair, and then a cool cloth, slightly wetted, was wiping away the traces of dung that had dried on his face. "Malfoy?" Potter asked, his voice right beside Draco's ear and his breath tickling Draco's cheek.

Draco didn't open his eyes. "Go ahead and laugh if you want, Potter. I'd probably do it if our situations were reversed."

Draco could feel Potter shake his head. "I'm not going to laugh. Come, show me what's wrong."

Slowly, Draco pushed himself away from the cabinets and took his hand off of his wound, still not opening his eyes. Draco heard Potter suck in a breath at the deep gash, with dragon's dung in the bleeding flesh. Potter's hands skimmed over the wound, so gentle that Draco hardly felt they were there. "You'll have to disinfect the wound before you heal it," Potter told him, "The dung that got into the wound would be dangerous if you don't get it all out first."

When Draco didn't answer, Potter sighed. "Malfoy. Look at me." Draco opened his eyes and stared blankly at Potter, the pain from his arm blocking any complicated thoughts he might have. "Can you move your arm?" Potter asked. Draco shook his head numbly. Potter nodded, looking satisfied that he was finally getting a reaction. "Would you like me to stay, and help you heal your shoulder?"

Draco shook his head immediately, and Potter sighed. He didn't make any move to get up and leave, though, and only waited until Draco closed his eyes again and nodded in defeat. He had no choice to accept Potter's help, since he couldn't even stand up by himself, much less heal his shoulder.

Potter smiled softly and took out his wand. Draco looked up sharply, but Potter only said, "I'll just cast a minor charm on you to relieve the pain. And then I'll cast a lightening charm on you, so I can lift you up into the bath."

Draco nodded again, and Potter did everything he said. With a wave of his wand, Potter filled the tub with warm water, before gently setting Draco down into the tub, fully clothed. Rolling up his sleeves, Potter began to slowly peel Draco's mud-slicked robes off, murmuring softly all the while to tell Draco exactly what he was doing. Draco let himself relax into the perfectly warm bathwater, watching Potter from under lowered eyelids. Potter's hands were gentle but efficient, quickly getting Draco's robes off with barely a twinge of pain from his arm, until Draco was sitting in the tub in only his pants, his dirty robes discarded on the bathroom tiles.

Potter got out a small towel and dipped it into the tub, squeezing it out and proceeded to clean Draco's face, neck, and torso, making his way carefully around the wound. Draco sighed as the feeling of the warm towel slid over his skin, glad to be getting clean at last after a week of living in an unwashed state. His right arm was useless; he couldn't move it, but thankfully it wasn't overwhelming him with pain anymore due to the pain-relieving charm Potter had cast earlier. Draco smiled softly as Potter's hands made their way down his body. Perhaps living with Potter would be more pleasant than he'd initially thought.

Potter finished washing all the bare skin of Draco's torso and head, and then Potter moved from the side of the tub to the front, behind Draco's head. Draco wasn't worried, though. Potter had kept up his constant stream of soft words throughout the entire process, and Draco had heard Potter say he was going to wash his hair.

Draco watched in the mirror as Potter found a bottle of soap from a cupboard nearby, squeezing some into his hand and rubbing both hands together. Potter slightly wet Draco's hair, and then rubbed the soap in, slowly massaging Draco's head until he nearly moaned in pleasure. Closing his eyes and leaning back, Draco sighed in utter contentment as Potter worked magic on his scalp, leaving him feeling refreshed and better than he could remember feeling for a long time.

"Enjoying ourselves, are we, Malfoy?" Potter asked softly, amused.

Draco hummed low in his throat. "I hate to say it, Potter, but yeah, I am. Never thought a Hero like you would be so good at something so mundane."

The hands paused in their massaging, before starting up again. "I'm not a hero," Potter said quietly, more to himself than Draco.

Draco opened his eyes to find a pair of shining green emeralds staring down at him. "Yes, you are," Draco said with conviction. "You saved us all from a fate worse than death. You killed the Dark Lord. That makes you a hero."

Potter smiled slightly. "His name is Voldemort." Draco suppressed a shudder at the name. Even three years after the War, nobody dared to speak his name.

"You can only say that because you aren't afraid of him," Draco commented.

Potter tilted his head, his hands going down to rub Draco's neck. Draco's eyes fluttered closed in pure bliss. "What's so frightening about Voldemort?" Potter asked quietly. "He was human, just like the rest of us. He may have been power-hungry and merciless, but he was a mortal. He was just a man who had been abandoned by the world when he was young. He was a boy named Tom Riddle."

Draco kept his eyes closed this time. "He was evil. He was driven by greed, power, and fear. He was insane, a madman, but one of such colossal proportions that the rest of the world was unable to withstand his insanity, and crumpled under his dominance. That was what made him frightening. The knowledge that he wouldn't stop when a normal person would; that he would do things to such degree that no other would dare to do them. He was unpredictable and powerful, a deadly combination." Draco thought for a moment, and then snorted. "So are you, Potter, now that I think about it."

Potter let out a bitter bark of laughter. "Yes, Malfoy. Voldemort and I indeed were alike. More so than you can ever imagine."

Draco shook his head, still enjoying the head massage while Potter shampooed his hair, so he wasn't as guarded with his words as he normally was. "You two may have been alike, Potter, but it was your choices that defined you. In the end, you were nothing like him at all. He was twisted and evil, while you were nothing but good. That's what makes you our Hero, Potter. You had the choice to go bad, to go so bad that the world would've trembled beneath your power. Yet you saved us all from the grips of fear, and asked for nothing in return."

Draco opened his eyes and looked up at Potter, surprised to find Potter looking back at him with such a tender expression, as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. "I never thought I'd be saying this, but thank you, Malfoy."

Draco smiled as a rush of pleasure coursed through him for making Potter smile like that. Potter wasn't turning out to be half as bad as he'd first thought, and Draco honestly thought that if only things had been different, if only Yaxley wasn't chasing him for his life and he had had no choice but to lie to Potter, they might have been able to get a second chance at being friends.

Potter rinsed his hair and cleaned his soapy hands. Draco noted that the water in the tub was still as sparkling clean as when he'd first went in, and deduced that Potter had probably put a charm on the tub to get rid of any dirt and soap suds in the tub so the water would always remain clear. Draco smiled to himself. It seemed as if the Hero was surprisingly domesticated.

"Malfoy, I'm going to clean out your wound now. It's going to hurt, even with the pain-relieving charm." Potter turned around from the sink with a towel in one hand and his wand in the other. Waving it, Potter conjured a thick rod of wood. Handing it to Draco, who stared at it blankly, Potter explained, "Bite onto the wood. You won't scream that way, and if you're concentrating on biting the pain will be less." Seeing Draco's skeptical look, Potter added, "Trust me. I'm speaking from personal experience."

Draco took the wood with his left arm – his working arm – and stared at it for a moment. "Potter," Draco said softly, slowly, not wanting to ask but feeling obligated to do so. Potter turned and looked at him, green eyes meeting grey.

"Yes, Malfoy?"

Draco took a moment to think of the correct words, so that Potter would answer his question but it wouldn't be taken the wrong way. "I appreciate you doing all this," Draco waved the hand holding the wooden rod around the bathroom, to indicate what he meant, "But why? Why are you doing all this for me, when we've been enemies most our lives? Why aren't you asking how I became like this," Draco gestured to his bleeding shoulder and his filthy clothes, "Or asking why I suddenly came up to you today looking nothing like what a self-respecting pureblood wizard should? Why aren't you suspicious at all of me, and even showed me your home beneath the Fidelius?" Draco sighed, and looked at his hands. "I suppose what I'm trying to ask is, why are you trusting me?"

Potter, incredibly, surprisingly, smiled. Draco marveled at how the expression completely brightened Potter's face, and made him look so peaceful and joyous at the same time. "I'm not asking how you became like this because it's none of my business. I don't care how you got cut, nor how you got so dirty. If you want to tell me, I'd be happy to listen, but I don't need to know the reasons behind everything you do. I trust you because of who you are," Potter said.

Draco frowned, not understanding, and Potter continued. "I trust you because you saved my life before, back during the spring of seventh year when I was taken to Malfoy Manor. I trust you because your mother was a good woman, who loved her family more than anything else and lied for me to Voldemort. I trust you because I know you were forced to take that," Potter glanced down at Draco's left wrist, where the faded Dark Mark was still etched in his skin. Draco instinctively turned his arm to hide the Mark, looking away from Potter's gaze in shame. "I trust you, Malfoy, because I am tired of fighting and suspicion, and I just want to believe that the world is filled with nothing but good."

Draco nodded once before putting the wooden rod Potter had given him between his teeth. Draco knew he must look ridiculous, but Potter was focused entirely on his shoulder, barely glancing up at his face. Draco couldn't believe Potter's explanation of why he trusted him. It was so far-fetched and ridiculously naïve that if it had been anyone else, Draco would've immediately cursed them for lying. But since it was Potter… Draco knew that it just might be possible. Because Potter was so good himself, he didn't see the bad that filled the world. Draco wondered for a second how Potter had managed to stay so innocent even after all he'd been through, but reasoned that it was probably just the way Potter was.

As Potter analyzed his shoulder, Draco took the time to observe the other man. His hair was wild, but looked incredibly soft. His green eyes were determined and piercing as they focused on the wound, his movements precise and exact. Potter's skin was naturally pale, his bone structure light and lean rather than stocky and sturdy like Weasley. It was hard to believe that the small man before him was the most powerful wizard in the world; the man looked to Draco as if a single spell would shatter him. Draco's stomach tightened with guilt at the fact that he was lying to the other man, and he wondered with trepidation what would happen when Potter found out about his deceit. Draco looked away from Potter's face, resolving to do everything he could to prevent that from happening.

Potter glanced up. "Prepare yourself," he said shortly. Draco nodded, teeth clenching on the piece of wood. Without further actions, Potter pressed the wet towel directly on top of Draco's shoulder, gently rubbing it into the gash so the dragon's dung that had seeped inside would be washed out.

Draco jerked at the first contact, only to be pressed back against the side of the tub by Potter's hands. The pain was unimaginable. It came in waves, and Draco felt as if his whole arm was being torn off. He screamed, or tried to, his teeth clamping down hard on the wood. Draco was grateful for Potter's foresight; without the wood between his teeth, he would probably have bitten off his own tongue.

Potter shushed him gently, continuing to rub the wet cloth over the wound until it was stained red with blood with flecks of brown dung. Draco watched as Potter dunked the towel into the tub to clean it before resuming wiping the wound, his fingers pressing the towel in so that the wound would be properly cleaned. Draco closed his eyes against the pain and tried his best to stay as still as possible, while every nerve in his body howled at the torture.

Finally, Potter was satisfied with the state of the wound. "I'm going to cast some disinfectant spells on it, and then I'll heal it. It's going to take some time, though, since the curse that hit you severed the muscle connecting your arm to your shoulder. You probably won't be able to move the arm for a few days."

Draco started in alarm when Potter revealed he knew the wound on Draco's shoulder was caused by a curse. At Draco's surprised look, Potter smirked, uncannily resembling Draco's own expression. "I've seen many wounds before, Malfoy," Potter said casually. "During the War, and then after it. I'm an Auror, remember? I don't need to ask, I know when a wound is caused by a curse or not."

Draco straightened in alarm. If Potter knew that someone tried to curse him, Potter would most likely be able to figure out that someone was after him. Potter wasn't stupid, like Draco had assumed before, and Draco was sure Potter would be able to piece together the clues. He cursed himself for his carelessness. His father had taught him how to act and lie ever since he was little, and he had perfected the methods of deceit to an art. Only Potter, with his deadpan honesty and Gryffindor innocence, had ever been able to knock him off balance.

Potter smiled in response to Draco's panicked expression. "I told you, I'm not going to ask, remember? I'm not even trying to figure it out. And you don't have to tell me anything. I don't know who tried to curse you, nor do I want to know. I'll heal it, and it'll be good as new in a couple days. No harm done to anyone. Sound good, Malfoy?"

Draco looked with astonishment at Potter. What had he done to warrant such trust from the Savior himself? Potter had made that pretty speech about trusting, but Draco really hadn't thought it completely true until now. But Draco nodded slightly, glad that his cover hadn't been blown, and that Potter was too bloody kind to go pushing his nose into other people's private businesses.

The disinfecting charm caused the wound to sting a little, but was complete in a manner of seconds. Potter then performed the complicated healing spell for the wound, to both reconnect the severed muscle and regrow the damaged tissue and veins. Draco felt a curious itching sensation on his shoulder as he watched his skin knit back together, the blue glow of Potter's magic edging his skin. Soon, there was nothing more than a thin white scar to show where the gaping wound had been. Potter huffed in satisfaction, evaluating his own work.

"You'll be fine, Malfoy. Don't worry. Just don't move that arm for the next forty-eight hours," Potter instructed. Draco obediently followed the orders, and Potter conjured a simple sling for Draco to loop his arm through while it healed.

"Thank you, Potter," Draco muttered.

Potter gave him a bright smile, full of happiness and trust. "No problem, Malfoy. I suppose we're friends now, yeah?" he replied.

Draco felt another twinge of guilt at his lie, but pushed it aside. "Yeah, I guess," he smiled back, showing Potter a genuine expression. "Took us long enough, didn't it?"

Potter laughed. "Sure did. But you really were an arrogant git back before first year."

Draco sighed dramatically. "Oh how I've changed since then," he exclaimed.

"And you'll change more into a wrinkled prune if you don't get out of that tub soon," Potter remarked, holding up a towel for Draco.

Draco struggled up out of the tub, only able to use one hand. His pants, which he had worn throughout his bath, dripped into a growing puddle on the bathroom floor. Potter raised his eyebrows and dried Draco, along with the bathroom, with a quick drying charm.

Draco took the towel that Potter handed to him with raised eyebrows. "You realize there's no need for the towel now that you've dried me with the charm?"

Potter just shrugged. "You can pretend to be wet, can't you?"

Draco chuckled to himself while Potter went out the doorway and returned holding a stack of clothes, complete with new boxers and socks. "Here're the clothes I enlarged for you. Didn't know what you liked, so I just got you black. I'll be in the kitchen. Hang the towel up on the hook," Potter said, indicating two hooks behind the door, one of which was already occupied by a fluffy white towel.

"Call if you need anything else," Potter said over his shoulder, closing the bathroom door behind him. Draco listened to his footsteps go down the stairs, and he smiled to himself. It was nice to have the Hero of the Wizarding World as an unknowing protector, and even better to be taken care of by him. Draco closed his eyes and rubbed his clean hair, remembering the heavenly feel of Potter's fingers as Potter washed his hair. Shaking his head slightly to get his thoughts back on track, Draco forced himself to understand that he was only living with Potter temporarily; that he was using Potter to get away from Yaxley. That was it. He would not, under any circumstances, get emotionally attached to Potter.

With that new resolution made, Draco began the long and arduous process of changing his clothes with only one hand.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Ok, I'm updating this story at the same time that I'm updating my other one. Hope you like it. As always, please review!


	3. Going with the Plan

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any characters or settings mentioned in this story. This is a non-profit fanfiction, and all named characters and settings are the copyrighted property of J.K. Rowling.

* * *

Making his way down the stairs, Draco was clothed in Potter's comfortable black long-sleeved shirt and slacks, wearing a pair of boxers that were enlarged slightly too much and a pair of socks that were slightly too small. All the clothes smelled of Potter's unique scent of fresh soap and baked goods, and Draco's stomach grumbled as he imagined the smells of a sumptuous dinner, which he hadn't had in a week.

Draco blinked when he realized the scents wafting up towards him weren't just part of his imagination. They were actually real, infusing the house with the delicious smell of roasting chicken and baking apple pie. Draco followed his nose and found his way to the kitchen, where a humming Potter was bustling around contentedly in the large kitchen while an old house elf grumbled nearby about Potter's unhealthy choice of food.

"Master Harry isn't knowing of pureblood traditions," the house elf exclaimed irritably, "Master Draco is being a pureblood, a relation to the most ancient House of Black. Master Draco be wanting steak and kidney pie, yes, just like my Mistress used to love. Not the Muggle foods Master Harry be cooking."

Potter rolled his eyes at the elf, grinning down at it fondly. "Kreacher, I told you that in exchange for letting you keep Walburga's portrait in your room, you would let me make anything I wanted in the kitchen, remember? And you agreed, so you can't complain about my choice of food. Besides, I haven't made roast chicken in a long time. I believe the last time was when Ron and Hermione visited for Christmas, and that was six months ago."

Kreacher grumbled some more, before turning around and spotting Draco by the doorway. "Master Draco!" he said in his gravelly voice, his large eyes widening in surprise.

Potter turned around from where he was stirring a pot full of mashed potatoes. "Malfoy, take a seat. Dinner will be done in," Potter checked the time on the oven, "Fifteen minutes and thirty-one seconds exactly."

Draco took a seat at the minibar on the opposite side of the kitchen counter, sitting and facing Potter as he made dinner for them both. "I never knew you could cook, Potter," Draco said with a grin.

Potter shrugged. "I was raised by my aunt and uncle. They forced me to cook for them every day since I could reach the stove, and they punished me if I burned anything. I guess the habit sorta stuck on, and now I actually quite enjoy doing it."

Draco's eyebrows rose at Potter's comment. Draco had heard the rumors of Potter having been abused by his Muggle relatives, but hadn't really believed them until now. "I'm sorry," Draco said softly, experiencing an inexplicable anger towards Potter's relatives for treating such a fragile looking man that way. Draco had to remind himself that Potter was powerful, but by looking at him all Draco could see was a slightly lost, vulnerable man who had been thrust into an impossible position with no choice in the matter and did his best to simply survive. Draco felt a connection with Potter; they had both been put in impossible situations and had been forced to deal with it, after all. Only Draco wondered whether he would have been able to accomplish everything Potter had done if he had been in his place.

"Why? It's not your fault," Potter said bluntly, his hands busy ladling gravy into a gravy boat. "And I don't hate my Muggle relatives anymore. They are a part of who I am, and they make up my being. I've come to accept that, though I'll never actually like them, after growing up and living with them during my childhood."

Draco smiled at the other man, marveling at his capacity for compassion and forgiveness. "That's so Hufflepuff of you, Potter."

Potter rolled his eyes, smacking Draco on his good arm with the clean end of the ladle. "And it's so Slytherin of you to mention that, Malfoy," he shot back.

Draco inclined his head. "Touché," he murmured. Potter grinned.

Dinner was delicious. There was no other way to describe it. Draco hadn't had a proper meal in a week, and the roast chicken, mashed potatoes, and carrots and peas were the most delicious things he had ever tasted. Draco could hardly remember his manners, pouring gravy over everything and just barely able to refrain from stuffing his face full with the food. Potter laughed while Draco ate, telling him to slow down or else he'd choke. Draco did his best to eat with elegance, but the effect was slightly ruined by the fact he could only wield his utensils with one arm.

Seeing Draco's difficulties, Potter reached over and helped him cut the chicken into bite-sized pieces. "I was getting tired of watching you trying to cut chicken with a fork," Potter said by way of explanation, before turning back to his own food. Draco allowed a small smile to appear on his expression briefly, spearing up the now nicely cut chicken and chewing slowly. The chicken was moist and tender, with crispy skin that was seasoned to perfection.

"I have to hand it to you, Potter. You sure can cook well," Draco said in between bites.

Potter acknowledged the compliment with a nod. "Glad you like it," he said with a smile. "I rarely get to cook for anyone besides myself, so I'm happy to do it whenever I get the chance."

Draco smirked. "I'm sure Rita Skeeter would have a fit if she learned that her precious Hero's favorite pastime was cooking."

Potter laughed, but his eyes were shadowed. "She would have a fit if she learned anything true about me. I'm nothing like the glorified Hero she writes about all the time."

Shrugging, Draco swallowed his last bite of chicken and potatoes. "Again with the pessimist attitude, Potter. Where did the cocky Hero that I fought with in school go?"

Potter smiled, cleaning off his plate as well. "I never wanted to be a Hero, you know. I just wanted to live a quiet life, go to work with my friends, maybe have a family and some kids. I did what the Wizarding world asked of me during the War, setting my own personal goals aside. And now I'm trying to accomplish them, since the world doesn't need me to be their Hero anymore."

That tore away the last vestiges of Draco's misconceptions about Potter, and Draco realized that underneath all the pomp and splendor, Potter was just a man. He was human, and though he had accomplished extraordinary things, he just wanted to live like everybody else, which made him all the more special. Potter wasn't like other wizards, Draco decided; Potter was unique, individual. He lived life how he thought he should, and followed only his own sense of justice.

"You'll always be the Hero," Draco said. "You'll always be worshipped and admired, because of who you are. Nobody else could have done all the things you've done, nobody else would've sacrificed their lives for a bunch of strangers, and asked for nothing in return. That's what makes you Harry Potter, the Savior."

Looking away at his hands, curled neatly in front of him on the table, Potter snorted. "Let's just agree to disagree, Malfoy, since I don't want to start arguing with you again just after we became friends."

Draco sighed, but dropped the subject. Potter was right; arguing would be pointless, especially if Draco wanted to stay on Potter's good side and be under his unknowing protection to keep Yaxley at bay. For some reason, after Draco thought that, he was unable to continue meeting Potter's gaze, and had to look away from the direct green stare. Draco knew that looking away was suspicious, but he couldn't afford for Potter to see the flash of guilt that Draco was sure must be visible in his own eyes.

A loud beep sounded, interrupting the uncomfortable silence. Potter stood up quickly from the long wooden table, moving back towards the kitchen. "Dessert's ready," he called back to Draco. Draco remembered the apple pie he'd smelled earlier, and his mouth watered in anticipation.

Potter came back wearing large red oven mitts, carrying a plate holding a steaming pie, fresh out of the oven. Cutting two generous slices, Potter placed Draco's slice in front of him, along with a delicate silver fork. "Hope you like it," Potter said.

Draco took up the fork with his left hand, delicately cutting a small portion and raising it to his lips. Potter watched him closely, waiting for his reaction. Putting the bite in his mouth, Draco closed his eyes and moaned at the perfect taste.

The apple was mixed with a hint of cinnamon, the thick stuffing melting in Draco's mouth. The piecrust was crunchy and sweet, while the top was flaky enough to stick to the roof of Draco's mouth. It was warm and gooey, tasting exactly like how Draco thought a pie should taste. It was the best dessert Draco had had in his entire life, including all the meals he'd eaten that had been cooked by the house elves in the Manor or at Hogwarts. In that single bite, Draco knew that he would always prefer Potter's cooking over anything else.

"Perfection," Draco breathed, his voice slurred as he talked around the pie in his mouth. Draco opened his eyes again when he heard Potter sit down.

Potter was grinning widely. "Thanks, Malfoy. I try my best."

Draco shook his head, still savoring the taste. "This is more than your best, Potter. This is perfection. Where in the world did you learn to cook like this? I'm sure cooking meals for that Muggle family you lived with wasn't anywhere as good as this."

"After the War, I had a lot of time on my hands, since I wasn't being constantly hunted anymore. I decided that I needed to expand my hobbies, since all I really liked to do was fly, and I couldn't do that all the time. So I started reading, writing, and cooking. I figured out that I was too impatient to read, and after some botched attempts I realized I was shite at writing, so I focused on cooking. Hermione's helped me get started, and after that I started experimenting."

Taking another large bite, Draco said between chews, "You're amazing, you know that, Potter?"

Potter almost blushed, his cheeks turning a faint pink. Draco decided that he liked how that looked on Potter; the way he lowered his shining green eyes and his pale cheeks acquired some color in his embarrassment. Draco grinned at the other man. "What's with the Hufflepuff comments, Malfoy?" Potter asked, "If I didn't know better I'd say you're getting soft."

Draco remembered that he was supposed to be acting as a man in love with the one sitting opposite the table from him. "Being in love does that to a guy, in case you haven't noticed, Potter" Draco answered playfully, cringing at how cheesy that sounded.

Potter, however, blushed some more, and Draco felt a wave of warm satisfaction that burned away the embarrassment over his cheesy line. "And, despite being a Slytherin, I've always had unusually strong Hufflepuff tendencies," Draco admitted, trying to see how Potter would react. It was untrue, of course. Draco despised Hufflepuff sentimentality, and normally he wouldn't be caught dead using it. Only right now he was under… special circumstances.

Potter snorted. "If _you_ start having Hufflepuff tendencies, Malfoy, I'd start looking out for the end of the world. I can't imagine you as a Hufflepuff in a million years."

Draco smirked. "Why, Potter? Do my Hufflepuff comments bother you?"

Potter looked away, frowning. "I don't see how they'd bother me at all, Malfoy," Potter said unconvincingly. The man had always been horrible at lying.

Draco grinned, glad of his newfound power over the Hero. "Well, Potter," Draco said huskily, "I'll tell you I love you however many times you want. I really enjoyed that bath earlier, by the way." Draco had the utmost satisfaction watching Potter turn really red this time, the blush going all the way past his neck and under the collar of his shirt. Draco found himself wondering just how far that blush extended, before banishing the thought from his mind. He was just using Potter, and he had already resolved not to actually fall for the guy.

When Potter turned his pink tinged cheeks and luminous green gaze on Draco, though, Draco found himself wondering whether that would be easier said than done.

* * *

"This is the guest room. I suppose you can stay here for as long as you like, until you decide you're able to go back to Malfoy Manor," Potter said, showing Draco a tastefully decorated room with a magnificent ebony four poster and cream colored sheets, along with soft blue walls and a lush lavender throw rug. "It's not as big as what you're used to, but this is the only bedroom in the house that isn't mine or half destroyed."

Draco turned raised eyebrows to Potter. "Half destroyed?"

Potter glanced up at the ceiling. "Yeah. Sirius and his brother Regulus' rooms are upstairs, but I didn't renovate them, and I've left them as they were since Sirius still owned the house. Their rooms are both completely trashed, but I didn't want to do anything to them. It just feels wrong when I think about cleaning them up, like an invasion of their privacy."

Draco nodded. Only Potter would ever consider the privacy of those who were already long dead and buried. But Draco guessed that was just another one of Potter's unique ways. "I understand," Draco said quietly. "Thank you for the room. It's beautiful."

Potter smiled, his face lighting up. "You know where the bathroom is. You'll be the only one using it, since I've got a bathroom in my room."

Draco nodded. "Thank you," he said again.

"Good night, Malfoy," Potter said gently, retreating down the hallway and opening the first door on the landing.

"Good night, Potter," Draco answered; watching as Potter closed the door behind him before going into his own bedroom.

* * *

Draco flopped down on the bed, an unconscious smile on his lips, before he realized he was grinning at nothing like a fool and forced himself to stop. Sighing, Draco relaxed onto the covers, making sure not to jolt his right arm, which was tied firmly in its sling. His shoulder was no longer hurting; in fact, Draco could barely feel his wound, and only the fact that he couldn't move his right arm reminded Draco that he had been wounded at all. Draco deemed it due to Potter's excellent healing that it was possible. The man really was handy with his healing charms, and Draco wondered where he had learned them, since Potter had never shown an aptitude for charms before during Hogwarts.

Draco rolled over onto his left side, his invalid arm safely placed in front of him. He pulled out his wand, which he had concealed just in case in the waistband of Potter's slacks, and placed it gently on his bedside table. Draco idly noticed that he was still dressed in Potter's enlarged clothes, since his own robes where ruined and Potter had probably thrown them away or incinerated them. Burying his head into the pillow, Draco huffed with satisfaction when he noticed that the bed sheets smelled like Potter as well; soap and baked desserts. Letting his eyes drift closed, Draco knew that back when he was still a teenager, driven by fear and panic, he would never have thought that one day, he'd be using Harry Potter, his greatest rival and enemy, to protect him from those who wished him harm. Chuckling at the irony of the situation, Draco drifted off to sleep.

* * *

The next morning Draco woke feeling well rested and better than he'd felt for the past week. It was nice waking up in a proper bed, with sheets and a mattress, and knowing that he wasn't in imminent danger and wouldn't have another day of hard running in front of him. Draco stretched languorously, yawning widely, and allowed himself a few minutes of just lying on the bed and relaxing. Draco silently laughed at how Yaxley and the rest of the ex-Death Eaters who had been pursuing him the previous day must feel, knowing that he had gone and stayed in Potter's house, and for all appearances was under the protection of the Hero of the Wizarding World.

Draco knew Yaxley wouldn't give up that easily, though. He would have the street surrounding Potter's house under constant surveillance, and even though Potter's house was protected by a Fidelius so Yaxley wouldn't be able to know the exact location of the building, he would know its approximate location and have his followers patrolling the streets. With a jolt, Draco realized for the first time that now that he was staying with Potter, Potter was in danger as well. The thought caused a spear of guilt to stab into him, but he wrestled the feeling away by assuring himself that Potter was more than able to take care of himself.

Swinging his feet out of the bed, Draco made his way across the hallway to the bathroom, closing the door behind him and checking his reflection. He did a double take when he saw the state of his _hair. _The silky blond locks were half singed off from the curses that had skimmed him the previous day, making the ends of his hair dry and crackled. Draco passed a hand through his hair, which he had always been incredibly vain about, ever since he was little. The top of it was smooth and perfect, but the ends were gone beyond salvation. Draco let out a small cry of despair at the state of his hair, turning away from the mirror so he wouldn't have to look at himself. Draco cursed with mortification when he remembered that he had had dinner with Potter the night before with his hair looking like _this._ Draco silently thanked whatever god there was that Potter had enough sense of delicacy that he hadn't said anything about it.

Draco splashed water on his face and brushed his teeth with a toothbrush Potter had set out for him, along with a note that read '_Down in the kitchen. Call Kreacher if you need anything. My clothes are in the closet in your room – I've enlarged them to fit you.' _Draco smiled when he read the note. Apparently, Potter had thought about everything that Draco might need.

Half an hour later, cleaned up and dressed in a new set of Potter's clothes, this time a navy blue pullover with black trousers, Draco made his way down to the kitchen, glumly fingering the burnt ends of his hair. Potter was dressed in his resplendent crimson Auror's robes, and at the sound of Draco's approach he turned from his breakfast as Draco entered the kitchen, putting down his copy of the Daily Prophet and raising his eyebrows at Draco's frowning face. "Malfoy?" Potter said in way of greeting.

"Hair," Draco explained shortly. He saw Potter's eyes flit up to his hair, and understanding flicker in their depths.

"Ah," Potter said with a small smile, standing up from his place at the table. Kreacher immediately popped up.

"Is Master Harry being finished with his breakfast?" the elf asked slowly.

Potter turned and addressed the elf. "Yes, Kreacher. Would you clean it up for me, please? Or I could wash them myself if you don't want to."

Kreacher shook his head. "Kreacher be serving Master Harry. Kreacher will clean the dishes." With a snap, the dishes disappeared, most likely cleaned instantly and put back in their places in the cupboards. "Will Master Harry be needing anything else?"

Potter nodded. "Could you bring Malfoy's breakfast up, please?" With a snap, it was done, the plates steaming gently on the table. "Thanks, Kreacher. That's all."

Kreacher bowed to both Draco and Potter before disappearing with a crack. Potter turned back to Draco. "Sit down and eat some breakfast. I'll fix your hair after you eat."

Draco's frown disappeared, to be replaced by a single raised eyebrow. "An Auror, a cook, and a hairdresser as well? Potter, you're turning out to be a man of many talents." Draco moved around the table and sat down opposite Potter, who sat as well.

"I've had to cut Ron's hair a few times, when we were on long missions and his hair got too long. Ron doesn't like it when I cut it funny, so I've learned to do a passable job." Potter picked up his newspaper again, but a clicking sound at the window made him raise his head.

Draco turned and saw a pure black owl at the windowsill. "Mail? I wasn't expecting anything today," he heard Potter mutter, and with a flick of his wand Potter opened the window for the large bird. The owl fluttered in and came to a rest on the back of Potter's chair, dropping its delivery in front of Potter on the table, its black feathers highlighted in the morning light with streaks of blue and purple.

"Good morning, Sabor," Potter murmured, conjuring a small handful of owl treats and feeding them to the bird. "What have you got for me today?"

Potter opened the small note, reading it quickly before a small smile crossed his features. Without another word, Potter handed the note over to Draco, who took it with some surprise. Looking down at the small note, Draco saw that there was only a single paragraph penned neatly across the parchment.

_Harry,_

_How's living with Malfoy coming along? He doesn't seem like the git he was back in school, so I hope everything is going fine. I must admit, I was shocked when he confessed to you yesterday, but now that I think about it I suppose you do compliment him quite well. I couldn't wait until work to tell you this, so I decided to send Sabor to you. About dinner at the Burrow on Saturday, I managed to convince Ron to let you invite Malfoy along. He was quite reluctant, what with the blood feud between the Malfoys and the Weasleys, but considering that Malfoy seems to have changed somewhat Ron grudgingly agreed. I think that this is a brilliant chance for us to get to know Malfoy better, and Malfoy could even end this useless blood feud with the Weasleys. Ask him if he wants to come along, and tell me at work today._

_With love, _

_Hermione_

Draco looked up at Potter after he read the note. Potter was stroking the wings of the owl, crooning softly at the bird, which hooted back at him. Potter sensed Draco's gaze and turned, his eyes unguarded and gentle. Draco had to force himself to open his mouth and speak; instead of stare at the way the light slanting in from the window highlighted Potter's hair and made his eyes sparkle. Shaking his head to clear it of such thoughts, Draco placed the note between them on the table. "You want me to attend the Weasley gathering in three days?" he asked bluntly.

Potter shrugged. "It's up to you. You don't have to. I only showed you the note because it concerned you, and I thought you should know."

Draco considered for a moment. "Saturday is in three days," he said slowly, "And my arm would be healed by then."

Potter nodded, letting Draco think it through and returning to pet his owl. "The Weasleys hate me, though," Draco whispered. "Death Eaters killed one of their sons, one of the twins, I think. They wouldn't accept me, me being who I am."

Potter looked at Draco until he met his eyes. "The Weasleys mourn the loss of their son, but they don't hold you personally responsible. They understand, more than most, that the War caused all of us to do bad things. Atrocious things, with no choice in the matter. We all have regrets, but we've moved on. I think it would be a good chance for you to have a fresh start with the Weasleys."

Potter reached over and squeezed Draco's good hand, leaving Draco's fingertips tingling from the touch. "We don't have to talk about it now. Take as long as you like to decide. Now, do you want me to fix your hair?"

Draco nodded; letting his hands fall back into his lap and placing his fork down on the plate. He had barely touched his food, and his appetite had vanished in the face of the decision that faced him. Potter cleaned the dishes and vanished them with a wave of his wand, stepping around the table until he was standing directly behind Draco's seat. Placing both hands on the sides of Draco's head, Potter gently tilted it until it was straight.

Conjuring a large mirror in front of Draco, Potter began to cut Draco's hair with short charms from his wand, doing away with all the burnt areas and vanishing the cut strands before they even had a chance to fall to the ground. Draco's hair had been severely singed, but Potter calmly worked his way around Draco's head, snipping at the hair with utmost concentration, chewing on his bottom lip as he focused. Draco could see Potter's progress as he cut, and Draco watched Potter's face as the other man aimed his wand at the areas of hair, running his fingers through Draco's hair to get at the bottom layers.

After ten minutes of snipping and trimming, Draco looked as if he had had an expensive hairdresser style his hair. The front hung casually over his eyes, the rest layered so that it fell in a silky wave to his shoulders, holding no hint that it had previously been half burned and horrifying. Draco admired himself in the mirror, running his fingers through the golden strands. "Wow," he said, his tone plainly showing his surprise.

Potter smirked, putting his wand away in the sleeve of his Auror robes. "Think about Hermione's offer, will you, Draco?" he asked gently, before glancing at the clock that hung on the far wall. "I have to get to work now. I'll try to be back around five. Kreacher will help you with anything you need, and if you go out you only have to think Number 12 Grimmauld Place in front of the street for the house to appear."

Draco stood up quickly as Harry started walking down the hallway towards the front door. "Wait-" Draco began, before he stopped himself. Draco had been about to ask Harry to stay, but now that he thought about it, the idea was ludicrous. He was in a house protected by a Fidelius. Yaxley wouldn't be able to get anywhere near him, unless either Draco went outside the house or Harry revealed the house to Yaxley. The second was impossible, so Draco had only to stay in the house to be safe. There was no need for Harry to be constantly by his side.

"Yes?" Harry asked, standing in front of the doorway and waiting expectantly.

Draco walked over and stood in front of him, shifting uncertainly from foot to foot. "Ah, well, you see," Draco stuttered, twisting his hands together behind his back in nervousness. He then cursed himself internally. Malfoys didn't stutter. _Ever. _

"What is it, Draco?" Harry asked again, turning to fully face him, concern appearing in his eyes.

Draco's heat was beating wildly and his blood was pounding in his ears. He had no idea what he was doing, or even what he wanted to do, for that matter. The only thing he knew was that Harry was leaving for work, and he didn't want the other man to leave without doing _something. _He took a deep breath, quelling his nerves, before screwing his eyes shut and leaning down towards the shorter man, placing a quick kiss on his lips, so lightly that he barely felt the contact. "Have a nice day at work," Draco muttered, and immediately whirled around, practically running back into the safety of the kitchen, out of sight from Harry's dazed green eyes. Slamming the door of the kitchen shut behind him, Draco waited nervously for Harry's reaction.

Leaning against the wall of the kitchen, Draco breathed a sigh of relief when Harry didn't demand for an explanation and instead quietly left out the door. Thinking of what he'd done, Draco wondered what on earth had possessed him to _kiss _Harry Potter. He wasn't even gay, though after three years of no human contact in the Manor except for his mother, Draco didn't know whether he was truly straight, either. But that was beside the point. Draco had just_ kissed_ the Hero of the Wizarding world. And it had felt pretty good.

Draco held a hand up to his mouth, tracing where Harry's soft lips had been a moment before. Draco closed his eyes and remembered the warmth of Harry's breath, inhaling Harry's soap-and-pastry scent. An involuntary smile graced Draco's features, and he sagged against the wall as he relived the short kiss, replaying it over and over in his mind. It was when Draco began thinking that he wanted to do it again; that was when he decided he should get his delusions under control.

Harry Potter was nothing but a tool. A tool that Draco was using to save his own life. A tool that had no idea of his purpose, one that Draco had lied to and manipulated. Draco's insides clenched up with guilt again, and he slid down the wall until he was sitting on the mahogany floorboards, his head in his hands and his eyes closed shut, the feeling of his kiss with Harry still ghosting over his lips.

"What the hell am I doing?" Draco muttered to himself. It had been hardly a day since Draco had 'confessed' to Harry. How had the bloody Hero managed to make such a huge impact on Draco this way? Draco had never felt like this before, like he was helpless but yearning for something at the same time. "Bloody Potter," Draco cursed, but the remark held none of its previous sting. Now, even to Draco's ears, it sounded suspiciously akin to an endearment.

Taking deep breaths as he continued sitting on the floor, Draco tried to reason out his feelings into something more manageable. He was pretending to be in love with Harry Potter, so that Harry would let him stay in his house, which would thus protect him from Yaxley and the other ex-Death Eaters. That was the plan. He had kissed Harry Potter, and had enjoyed it. That was the problem. He wasn't supposed to enjoy kissing Harry, or even to kiss him at all. And the fact that Draco himself initiated the kiss, when Harry hadn't shown any inclination to kiss him, was even more embarrassing.

Going back to his deep breathing exercises, Draco waded through the tangle of his thoughts. So he had kissed Harry. That further enforced his pretense of being in love with the man, and would convince Harry of his story. Draco smiled. That was logical. It was an explanation, and Draco accepted it as truth. As for the fact that he had enjoyed the kiss… well, Draco thought, if he was going to pretend to be in love with Harry Potter, then he might as well get some enjoyment out of the deceit. At least, until Draco discarded Harry when he didn't need him anymore, Draco could enjoy all the perks that came from using the naïve Hero.

Nodding his head and convincing himself, Draco stood up again, flattening his hair into place from where he'd rumpled it before. Dismissing the throbbing guilt that stung his insides, Draco took another deep breath. Observing himself in the mirror that Harry had conjured, which still stood atop the breakfast table, Draco had to admit that Harry had done a bloody good job. Vanishing the mirror with a wave of his wand, Draco wondered how he would occupy himself for the rest of the day, now that Harry was gone to work.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Thank you for the reviews so far! :P Oh, and Nyx, I guess you're right about that :3 But if Harry had refused, then there won't be any story to actually write about… I don't know. I claim artistic license. XD Besides, Harry's got something up his sleeve as well, and it'll all make sense later. Ah, right, and please continue reviewing!


	4. The Stirrings of Guilt

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any characters or settings mentioned in this story. This is a non-profit fanfiction, and all named characters and settings are the copyrighted property of J.K. Rowling.

* * *

Draco decided that as long as he was going to live with Harry, he might as well familiarize himself with the house. So Draco tucked his wand into the waistband of the pants he was wearing, and proceeded to explore.

Draco found that Harry had renovated the entire house – other than the two bedrooms on the third floor – so that the house was nothing like how Draco remembered it from when he'd visited in the past. The house was light and airy, and seemed to silently encourage him as he looked around. The rooms were tastefully decorated in warm colors, with none of the gaudy gold and red of Gryffindor that Draco had expected of Harry Potter. Draco found himself actually enjoying his self-led tour of the house. He passed through a parlor, a dining room, a sitting room, a drawing room, the kitchen, a small library, and finally to Harry's study.

Walking into the study, Draco was immediately drawn to a photograph on the large oak desk. Picking it up, Draco saw it was a picture of a man and a woman, dancing in a courtyard and smiling up at the camera. Draco smiled when he noticed the man's wild black hair and the woman's brilliant green eyes. He was looking at a picture of Harry's parents.

Setting the picture down gently back in its place, Draco strolled around the room, noticing the large white paneled fireplace that was perfect for firecalling or flooing. There were a few shelves against the walls, all holding files and important looking documents. Walking over and picking one at random off the shelf, Draco flipped it open and scanned its contents with curiosity. The first page read;

'_ January 21__st__, 1999. Death Eaters still at large spotted near Wiltshire, approximately five in number. Incident reported by one Lawrence Claude, currently employed as Secretary in the Department of Magical Archives in the Ministry of Magic. Event reported January 19__th__, 1999. Mission; Capture Death Eaters and bring them to the Ministry for questioning and trials. Use force if met with resistance. Kill if necessary.'_

Draco raised his eyebrows. Apparently, this was one of Harry's old Auror case files. Underneath the paragraph was a large red stamp that read '_Complete', _with the Minister of Magic's signature at the very bottom, along with Harry's scrawled name and Weasel's messy signature. Flipping the file shut and walking down the shelves towards the end closest to the desk and the window, Draco picked another file up at random. Flipping it open and his eyes immediately going to the date, Draco saw that it was much more recent than the previous one.

'_May 30__th__, 2001. Illegal potion smuggling across the English-Scottish border. Eyewitness reports of approx. twenty smugglers, smuggling highly dangerous potions through International Portkey Security. Stocks include Draught of Living Death, Alihotsy Draught, Angel's Trumpet Draught, Amortentia, Hate Potion, Dragon Poison, etc. Mission; Halt potion smuggling and capture smugglers for questioning and trials. Secure International Portkeys to prevent further incidents. Use force if met with resistance. Maim if necessary. Do not kill.'_

Underneath was the large '_Complete' _stamp again, as well as the three signatures. Draco smiled to himself and put the file back on the shelf. It seemed that Harry was pretty busy at work.

Turning around and striding out of the study, unwilling to pry into Harry's private files any longer, Draco didn't notice a week-old copy of the Daily Prophet lying facedown on top of Harry's large oak desk, surrounded by various other files and documents. Had he turned back and flipped the newspaper over, however, Draco would have seen a front page article showcasing a large picture of the destroyed Malfoy Manor after Yaxley and his cronies had torn it apart looking for Draco, with two-inch tall headlines screaming, '_Death Eater Attack on Malfoy Manor. Ex-Death Eaters pursuing the last Malfoy?' _

But Draco didn't turn back, instead heading back to the library he had passed on his way to the study, closing the study door gently behind him.

* * *

Draco was sitting on a comfortable armchair in the library and reading a book when he heard the front door open, and Harry call "I'm back." As soon as he heard Harry's voice, all of Draco's embarrassment from that morning came flooding back with the memory of his kiss. Refusing to answer Harry, Draco continued to fix his eyes to the book in front of him, no longer seeing the black print, trying vainly to pretend that he wouldn't have to face Harry in a matter of minutes.

Draco listened as Harry made his way throughout the house, calling his name softly every few seconds. Draco curled back into the armchair, facing away from the door to the library and holding his book in front of his face, hoping that Harry would think that he had gone out.

But no such luck. Draco heard the library door click open behind him, and Harry's near silent footsteps on the floorboards. "So here you are, Draco," Harry said from directly behind his armchair, his breath tickling Draco's neck.

Draco suppressed a shiver and didn't answer, flipping a page in his book to continue his pretense of reading. Harry leaned down on the back of the armchair, reading over Draco's shoulder.

"I didn't know you were interested in becoming a Mediwizard, Draco," Harry murmured.

Draco closed the book, finally turning and facing Harry, but without meeting his eyes. "I thought that since the War is over, and since I don't really have anything to do, I might as well start thinking about my future. Being a Mediwizard seemed interesting."

"Why not a Healer?" Harry asked, "Mediwizards accompany Aurors to look after those injured during our missions, and sometimes they are in danger during combat with the criminals. Healers have safer jobs, seeing as they work in St. Mungo's."

Draco frowned. To be honest, he hadn't actually known why he'd wanted to be a Mediwizard rather than a Healer. Seeing as he was lying to Harry just to protect his own life from Yaxley, it didn't really make sense that he was looking into a job that would potentially be life-risking. Shrugging, Draco stood and returned the book to its shelf. "I suppose I just wanted to help people, at the scene where they were hurt. I just want to atone, for all the things I've done."

Draco looked up in time to see Harry's brilliant smile flash across his face, and a warm knot of contentment settled into the bottom of his stomach. "That's great, Draco," Harry said softly.

Draco's lips twitched into an answering grin without any conscious effort on his part. "Thanks," he said simply.

Harry nodded and went over to the shelves, fingering the books fondly. "You know," Harry said slowly, visibly weighing his next words, "If you're really interested in being a Mediwizard, you'll have to know how to get along with Aurors, and you'll have to be familiar with the way we work."

Draco nodded. He remembered reading in the book that Mediwizards often joined up with an Auror partnership to form a three-man team, so that the two Aurors would be able to protect the Mediwizard in case the missions came to the point of combat. "Well," Harry continued, "I could take you to work with me tomorrow if you want. You can meet some of the Aurors at the office, and I can probably get an interview for you with the Head of the Department of Magical Healing and Emergency Aid for Mediwizard training if I asked her nicely."

Draco smirked, going over to stand beside Harry. "If you ask nicely?" he repeated, "I doubt anybody would refuse you anything, even if you commanded it, Hero."

Harry brushed off the comment. "So?" he asked, looking up at Draco with excited green eyes. "Would you like to come?"

Draco sighed. How could he say no when Harry was looking at him like that? Frankly, he was astonished how much Harry was already doing for him, and without asking for anything in return. But Draco was a Malfoy, and he wasn't going to refuse such blatant generosity. Especially when it came at him in the form of the Savior. "I'd love to," Draco purred, anchoring both his arms on the bookshelf on either side of Harry and leaning down, trapping the smaller man in his arms. "I'd love to, Harry," Draco repeated, whispering into the other man's ear. Draco idly wondered why he was doing this, but brushed the thought aside. He was supposed to be pretending to be in love, after all, and it was fun to see the Hero get so flustered.

Harry blushed with Draco's close proximity, turning his head slightly to the side and involuntarily exposing a pale slender neck up for Draco's view. Draco's mouth started watering as he imagined how Harry would taste; whether the Hero would taste like the freshly baked pastries he somehow always smelled of, or something entirely different.

Draco couldn't resist leaning down and burying his head into the crook of Harry's neck, just to satisfy his curiosity. Gently, almost tenderly, Draco trailed a string of kisses down Harry's neck, stopping at Harry's throat where Draco could feel the erratic pulse of the Hero's heart throbbing under his lips. "You taste delicious, Hero," Draco breathed against Harry's neck, his lips twisting into a smile when he felt Harry's quick inhales.

"Thank you," Harry said breathlessly from above Draco's head, "Nobody's ever told me _that_ before."

Draco chuckled, noticing when Harry swallowed at the vibration, and raised his head so that his face was mere inches away from Harry's own. Harry was flushed and trembling, his back against the bookshelves, still trapped in the circle of Draco's arms. Harry's eyes were gleaming brighter than the stars, and Draco thought the man looked in utter need of a good snogging. And Draco was never one to deny something like that.

Bringing his lips closer to Harry's, Draco smirked when the Hero's eyes fluttered shut in anticipation, their breaths mingling together in the sliver of space that still separated them. Closing that last bit of distance between their lips, Draco suppressed a moan as he crushed Harry's soft, pliant, strawberry tasting mouth to his. Who would've ever expected the Hero to taste of something so delicious? Gently running his tongue over Harry's bottom lip, Draco felt heat gather in his groin when Harry's mouth opened up in invitation.

Eagerly delving into the silken warmth that was Harry's mouth, Draco explored the area, shuddering with delight when Harry's tongue gently flickered over his. Draco lifted a hand from the bookshelf and placed it at the back of Harry's neck, his other hand, which was still in a sling, looping gently around the smaller man's waist and bringing their bodies flush together. Harry's arms came up automatically to wind around Draco's neck, and Draco smiled in pure bliss, his eyes closed and holding Harry to him as if he'd never let go.

"Draco," Harry whispered between kisses, his voice muffled by Draco's mouth, "We shouldn't." Harry removed one arm from Draco's neck and lifted a restraining hand, placing it on Draco's chest to hold him back. The single touch sent a blaze of desire rippling through Draco's body, and he growled at the slim but strong arm that kept him from devouring Harry's lips.

"Why?" Draco hissed irritably, not caring if he sounded pathetic or not in his overwhelming desire.

Harry's brilliant green eyes peered up at him over his glasses, which were slightly askew. Draco gently released his hold on the back of Harry's neck to tip the glasses back in place, smoothing Harry's rumpled curls behind his ear in the same motion. Those amazingly clear eyes plainly displayed Harry's own desire, while Harry sighed and tilted his head into Draco's touch. "Why, Harry? Don't you want me?" Draco asked again, gently this time, as if talking to a skittish mare. He held his breath as he waited for the answer. If Harry truly didn't want him, Draco honestly didn't know what he would do.

Harry's face turned red and he glanced away, stepping out of Draco's loose embrace at the same time. Draco fought back the immediate disappointment at his absence, surprised to find that he actually missed Harry's warmth.

"I just don't want to use you," Harry said honestly, looking right at Draco, willing him to understand. "You just came up to me yesterday, declaring your apparent love for me that you've had ever since we'd first met. Up until yesterday, you were still my old school rival, nothing more. Since then I've learned you're not half the git you seemed to be back then, but it's been a _day, _Draco. I can't do this with you, not now, not when I don't love you yet. I would be using you, and I refuse to do something so low to you. We just became friends, after all."

Harry's words were a splash of freezing cold water in Draco's face. Harry, in all his stupid Gryffindor sense of honor and justice, refused to kiss Draco because he felt like he would be using Draco's 'feelings'. Draco almost laughed at the cruel joke Harry was unintentionally playing on him. Draco was using Harry, using Harry to save his own blasted life against a whole troupe of ex-Death Eaters, putting Harry in danger as well while Draco hid behind the other man's powerful reputation of being the Savior of the Wizarding World. Draco was manipulating Harry into unknowing and possibly life-threatening danger, while Harry wouldn't use Draco even for something so inconsequential as a kiss, which they both obviously wanted. It said a lot about their different characters.

Draco's mouth quirked into a small, sarcastic smirk. "As you wish, Hero," Draco said lightly, leaning on the nearest bookshelf and assuming a mask of indifference, tossing his head to flick a strand of golden white hair out of his eyes.

Harry looked as if he was about to say more, but with a sigh he turned away. "I'll be down in the kitchen," he said quietly, before leaving and closing the library door gently behind him.

* * *

Draco sighed and ran his good hand through his hair – something he almost never did unless he was extremely anxious – and fell back down onto the armchair he had been sitting in when Harry had arrived. Lying to Harry and pretending to be in love wasn't supposed to have been this difficult. Hell, Draco had only come up with this plan on a spur-of-the-moment idea. The plan had been simple; get Harry to believe Draco was hopelessly in love with him so Draco would get into Harry's good books, make Harry take Draco to his home, where he would be protected, wait until Yaxley and the others lost interest in pursuing him, and then leave Harry and carry on with his own life.

At least, that _had_ been the plan. Draco had no idea where the plan was heading now, since it suddenly seemed to be a whole lot more complicated than he had anticipated. Slouching back into the armchair and staring at a blank piece of wall, Draco knew he'd never thought lying to Harry would be so _hard. _Or so plain _difficult, _and that he would experience this much stomach-cramping mind-consuming _guilt._ Gaining Harry's trust had been simple, far too simple. But now, Draco found living up to that trust tremendously hard.

Shaking his head, Draco knew that there was really nothing he could do about it now. He had already told Harry the lies, and there was no way to go back. The only thing Draco was absolutely certain of, the only thing Draco would not allow, was that he would never let Harry know the truth.

* * *

Going down to the kitchen when the sun began to set over the horizon of Muggle London, Draco smelled once again the delectable aromas of Harry's cooking. Walking down the stairs towards the kitchen, though, Draco heard the muffled sounds of a conversation happening. Draco recognized at once Harry's soft alto hum, and the distinct high-pitched soprano of a woman.

Peeking in through the crack in the doorway of the partially closed kitchen door, Draco was given a perfect view of Harry bustling around making dinner, while talking softly with somebody firecalling from the small kitchen fireplace. Draco at once recognized the face of the youngest Weasley, even though her telltale red hair appeared as a haze of bright green flames in the Floo. The exact same shade as Harry's eyes, Draco noticed.

The Weaslette had just finished speaking, and Draco heard Harry answer. "I don't know, Gin. It's harder than I expected. I suppose I just don't like lying, to anybody for that matter."

The Weaslette pursed her lips, considering Harry's statement. "Well, Harry, you did sign up for the mission, after all. You have to complete it. And this is the fastest and easiest way. You really have no choice in the matter." Her voice was matter-of-fact and uncompromising. Draco found that he disliked it at once.

Harry hung his head, absently stirring something in the pot above the stove. "I know, I know," he said gloomily, "It's just that he's not as bad as I first thought. I feel," Harry paused, thinking for the right word, "Comfortable around him. Like he has no expectations of me, and I can just be who I am. He knows that I'm the Hero and everything, and he reminds me of it constantly, actually. It's just that he doesn't expect me to be the Hero all the time. He's like Ron and Hermione. I can be who I am, and he accepts me for it." Draco idly wondered who they were talking about, this mysterious man who Harry was supposedly lying to.

The Weaslette rolled her eyes. "When are you going to grow out of your aversion of public notice, Harry? I swear, I've never seen someone so afraid of the spotlight. You're our Hero, and people will treat you as such, whether you want them to or not. Even Ron and Hermione aren't as shy of the press as you."

Harry turned to face the figure in the Floo, his expression serious. "Ginny. You would be shy of the press as well, if you had Rita Skeeter writing lies about you for most of your life and being shunned by friends or mobbed by fans at intervals depending on the public's whimsical moods." Draco silently cheered for Harry. The man had apparently learned the art of snappy comebacks after they'd left Hogwarts.

Weaslette bit her lip, obviously knowing that she had pushed a button she shouldn't have. "All right, Harry. I understand," she said, lowering her eyes.

Harry's face gentled, and Draco fought down a stab of anger at the Weaslette. Who was she to talk to Harry like that? She didn't deserve Harry, much less Harry's gentleness. With a jolt Draco remembered that Ginevra Weasley had been Harry's girlfriend back during their school days. Slightly panicking, Draco wondered if the news article he'd read about Harry being gay was really just a lie, after all. What if Harry was actually straight, and was still dating the Weaslette, of all people? Fighting down a surge of anger at that thought, Draco forced himself to stay silent by the doorway and listen.

"Don't worry about it, Gin. Besides, why're we talking about my work? It's hardly the most interesting topic of choice, now is it? How about you? How've you been, playing for the Harpies?"

The Weaslette tossed her head proudly. "Won the last five games straight," she announced, smiling in triumph. "We've qualified for the English Cup. My coach says that I'm at the top of my game, and I'm a real credit to my team."

Harry smiled. "That's brilliant, Gin. Always knew you could do it." The Weaslette preened under the praise, and Draco imagined all the ways he could torture the woman with a kitchen fork until she begged for mercy.

"Thanks, Harry," the Weaslette simpered. In Draco's mind, the woman was chained in a dungeon and forced to undergo a carefully orchestrated combination of starvation and water torture. "You know, you could've played professional Quidditch as well, Harry. You're plenty good enough to qualify for an international team. I never knew the reason why you chose to be a boring Auror instead, when I know you love flying so much."

Harry smiled. "I'm trying to do my best, to help those who need it." Snorting slightly, Harry added, "I suppose I'm trying to atone." Draco remembered their conversation earlier in the library, and smiled at Harry's allusion. The Weaslette obviously didn't get it.

"Atone? Harry, you're the Hero of the Wizarding world. You don't need to atone. Heck, you saved us all from that madman. What's the need to make amends for that?"

Shaking his head, Harry sighed. "I did horrible things during the War, Gin. I killed, I stole, I lied and cheated. I'm no better than anyone else who survived the War, and the only difference was that I was the one who killed Voldemort in the end." The Weaslette flinched when Harry said the name, but Harry didn't notice. "I did what had to be done, and I did it to survive. We all did. And now I'm trying to help the people who still need help, to make up for those that I hurt."

She sighed as well, heavily. "I'll just never understand that side of you, Harry," she said resignedly. "You're the most powerful, influential, and famous wizard in the world today. And you stand there, cooking dinner, as if you were the common housewife."

Harry snickered. "Do I look so feminine, Gin?" he asked, fluttering his dark lashes. Draco gulped when he saw. Harry indeed didn't look feminine at all, but there was a grace and sense of power around him that a woman could never match up to.

The Weaslette apparently thought differently. "If you were a girl, Harry, I swear you'd be a drop-dead beauty. Longer hair would tame that bird's nest head of yours, as well."

Harry raised his eyebrows incredulously. "You sound as if you'd given this some thought already."

Weaslette shrugged, the movement showing as a slight bob in the Floo connection. "It's crossed my mind a couple of times. I've also imagined Ron as a centaur and Hermione as a mermaid, but I have to say you look the best by far. Ron as a centaur was just… gross." The Weaslette shuddered.

Snorting, Harry assumed a hurt expression. "Why am I the only one who's imagined with a sex change? I like all my bits in their proper places, you know."

Draco choked on the comment, ignoring the stab of irritation that Harry would speak so casually about something so… _intimate_ with the Weaslette. It made Draco wonder with trepidation how close, exactly, Harry and the Weaslette really were.

She giggled annoyingly in the Floo. "Oh, I know, Harry. It's just a girl's imagination. I know it won't happen."

Rolling his eyes, Harry turned back to the pot he'd been stirring. "I'll have to watch my back around you from now on," he said teasingly. "You might try to hex me into a girl, just to satisfy your own blasted imagination."

"Oh, trust me. I wouldn't dare do _anything_ of the sort," the Weaslette smirked. There was a lull in the conversation, as Harry took the pot off the stove and put something into the oven.

"Hey, you're gonna be there at the Burrow for dinner on Saturday, right?" Harry asked eagerly, turning back to the Floo. "You've been travelling so much lately playing Quidditch I've hardly seen you in the past few months."

Weaslette nodded in affirmation. "Yep. I'll be there. Don't tell Mum or anybody else, though. I want it to be a surprise."

Harry's green eyes twinkled. "I won't tell a soul," he said seriously. "Of course, if I _accidentally _talk to myself while having coffee at work, and Ron just _happens _to overhear…"

The Weaslette shrieked, giggling. "Don't you dare, Harry Potter," she warned in between gasps of breath.

Harry laughed, loud and carefree, and Draco immediately loved the sound. "Don't worry, Gin. You're secret's safe with me. I promise you're appearance for dinner will be a complete surprise."

"'Kay Harry. I'm trusting you on this one."

Harry smiled and squatted down in front of the fireplace, the green from the firecall making his eyes glitter even more like emeralds. "How about this. I won't tell about your appearance for dinner, and you won't try to turn me into a girl. Deal?"

The Weaslette pouted. "Aw, Harry. But it would've been so _fun._ Hermione would've loved it, and the look on Ron's _face-_" at a look from Harry, the Weaslette conceded defeat. "Oh all _right, _Harry. I won't try and turn you into a girl. And you _won't _tell anyone about dinner at the Burrow."

"Ok, Gin."

Ginny turned to look at someone behind her, her face disappearing for a second from the Floo. Rushing back, she said quickly, "Sorry, Harry, but I've got to go. My coach wants a last minute practice before our break, and she says that we've got to go, _now._"

Harry nodded, quickly striding over to the pot that he'd just taken from the stove. Spooning out a dark liquid, he went back over to the Floo. "Here, just taste this for me quickly before you leave."

The Weaslette nodded and opened her mouth. Harry gently let the head of the spoon disappear into the fire, and Ginny closed her lips around the spoon. "Mmm," she moaned, licking her lips as Harry took the spoon back. "That's delicious. You really have a knack for cooking, Harry. I swear, you're gonna beat Mum someday."

Harry grinned. "Not in a million years. Or, at least, not until I have six children and a spouse." The Weaslette rolled her eyes. "Ok, go. You're coach is probably getting angry at me for holding you up so long. See you Saturday?" Harry asked.

Weaslette smiled. "See you Saturday," she confirmed, before withdrawing from the Floo, ending the firecall. Harry smiled as the green flames changed back to the regular yellow and orange of a normal fire. Standing up, Harry turned back to the kitchen counter, pouring the liquid from the pot into two white china bowls.

* * *

Draco decided that it was time for him to make his appearance known. Tiptoeing into the kitchen and sneaking up behind Harry's unsuspecting back with silent footsteps; Draco wrapped his arms around Harry's stomach, pressing the other man's back into his chest. Harry jumped slightly at the sudden contact, but soon relaxed against Draco's solid body, melting into the embrace. Their bodies fit perfectly together, a fact that Draco found he took much pleasure in.

"What were you doing talking to the Weaslette?" Draco murmured against the back of Harry's neck, the end of Harry's stray curls tickling his cheek.

Harry half turned his head. "You were listening?" he asked curiously.

Draco nodded into Harry's shoulder. "Only the last part," Draco admitted. "I came down and I didn't want to intrude, and I ended up overhearing. You two seemed… like you didn't want to be disturbed."

Harry completely missed Draco's unasked question. "Oh, really, it would've been fine if you'd walked right in. I told her already that you were living with me, after all."

Draco couldn't stop a smile at Harry's innocence, even though it meant he would have to be more direct with his question. "What I meant was," Draco said slowly, unwilling to reveal how much the answer mattered to him, "Was whether there's… anything going on between you two? You don't have to tell me anything," Draco added hastily after seeing Harry's raised brows.

Harry smiled, leaning back and wrapping one arm around Draco's neck, tilting his head to rest on Draco's shoulder and looking up at the taller man. Draco found the position utterly adorable. "Why, Draco?" Harry murmured with a smile, his eyes flicking down to glance at Draco's lips, then back to his eyes. "Jealous?"

Draco tightened his grip on Harry, causing the other man to inhale sharply. "A Malfoy is never jealous," Draco growled low in Harry's ear. At an amused glance from Harry, Draco sighed, his bravado dissipating. "Maybe just a little bit," he corrected softly, burying his face into Harry's neck to hide his embarrassment and inhaling the familiar soap and dessert smell.

Harry chuckled in Draco's arms. "There's nothing going on, Draco. Don't worry," he assured him.

"But you were talking so familiarly with her. And you two used to go out," Draco whined, before telling himself harshly to stop acting like such a jealous boyfriend. He was only pretending to love Harry, after all; there was no need to act so pathetic.

Harry laughed again. "That's long over. We were always better as just friends. All that dating stuff didn't really work out, what with the War going on and stuff. I broke up with her just before seventh year was supposed to start, and we never got back together. She's like a sister to me, and we've just stayed as great friends."

Draco hummed into the delicately soft skin under Harry's ear, making the other man laugh. "Hey, Draco. That tickles, you know," Harry exclaimed, but didn't move away, which Draco took as permission to continue.

"But she sounded as if she was still head-over-heels in love with you," Draco couldn't help pointing out. "She's still definitely all over you."

Harry snorted. "Not bloody likely. Did you hear that part where she said she imagined me as a girl? Would she imagine someone she's interested in for a potential boyfriend as a girl?" Draco blushed, though Harry wouldn't have been able to see it, since his face was still buried in the other man's neck. Now that Harry said so, Draco had to admit that it was pretty ridiculous to imagine the Weaslette still in love with Harry.

"Besides," Harry continued, oblivious to Draco's inner turmoil, "Gin's married already."

Draco spluttered, bringing his head back up to normal height. "What?" he exclaimed, still clutching Harry to him. "Tell me that _first, _Harry, when you're trying to convince me that there's nothing going on between you two. Wait, how old is she, anyways? Nineteen? And she's _married? _With _who?"_

Harry shot Draco a sharp look over his shoulder. "She's twenty, actually. Just one year younger than us," Harry stated. "And I don't see why you're so surprised. She's a brilliant girl, nice, charming, amazing at Quidditch, and plenty pretty. I don't see why she _shouldn't _be married. Heck, I wouldn't be surprised if there were hordes of guys vying over her, back before she'd married-"

"Ok, ok. I get the idea," Draco interrupted, irrationally irritated at Harry's high praise of the Weaslette. "She's twenty years old and a nice enough girl. But whom is she married to? Back at Hogwarts, everybody thought it was certain that she would've married _you, _and you two would've had a mob of carrot topped kids."

Harry laughed at Draco's description. "She's married to Victor Krum. You know, the Bulgarian Seeker?" At Draco's blank expression, Harry sighed. "The one that competed for Durmstrang during the Triwizard Tournament?" Understanding and remembrance dawned on Draco.

"The guy who tried to kill you while under the Imperius in the third challenge?" Draco asked, just to make sure.

Harry sighed. "No, he wasn't trying to kill _me. _He was trying to kill Fleur and Cedric so that I'd get the Cup."

Rolling his eyes, Draco snorted. "Whatever. But why's the Weaslette married to _him? _He's famous and fit. Any girl would be happy to marry him, so why'd he choose _her?"_

"First of all, her name is _Ginny Weasley, _not Weaslette. And secondly, Victor had a bit of a crush on Hermione a while back. Hermione was dating Ron, though, so she always brought Ginny along with her when Victor wanted to meet her. Eventually, Victor thought that Ginny was better, and more importantly, actually available. So they started dating, and they married a year ago. They're both happy together, and they have Quidditch as a common ground of interest. I went to their wedding, actually. They're perfect together, and they're still so in love."

Draco huffed. "You're such a hopeless romantic, Harry," Draco muttered, bending down and kissing the other man's neck, nipping at it sharply until he left a mark, before licking it to sooth the skin.

Harry yelped, twisting around in Draco's arms so that they were pressed together, face to face. Clapping a hand over his neck, Harry checked for blood. "What was that for, Draco?" he demanded with wide eyes. "That was hard enough to leave a mark, wasn't it?"

Draco glanced down, satisfied, at the little red flower-shaped mark he'd made. "Yep, it sure was," he said smugly, smiling down at the other man.

Harry narrowed his eyes, before slapping him lightly on the shoulder. "That was on purpose, wasn't it?"

Draco laughed, his hands around Harry's waist. "Maybe, maybe not," he replied vaguely, before bending down and kissing Harry on the forehead. He wouldn't kiss Harry on the lips anymore, not until Harry was ready to accept him. He would wait.

Harry seemed to understand. Smiling, he wrapped his arms around Draco's shoulders. "Thank you," he said softly, before letting go and turning back to bend down and peer at whatever was in the oven. Draco was treated to a spectacular view of Harry's arse, and he had to forcibly remind himself that he had just resolved to _wait, _dammit, until Harry was ready.

The only question was how long he'd be able to withstand such sweet torture before he had to cave. Draco only hoped his self-control would be able to last, at least until Harry decided that he would be able to love Draco back.

* * *

The next morning, an excited Harry woke Draco up bright and early by practically jumping on top of him on his bed. Draco was jolted out of sleep, rubbing his eyes and seeing Harry grinning down at him, the other man straddling his waist on the bed as he bounced up and down in sheer excitement. "Draco, Draco, wake _up,_" Harry called, pulling at the collar of the shirt that Draco had worn to bed. Harry's shirt, actually.

Draco was immediately awake, all vestiges of sleep eradicated by the distracting motion of Harry bouncing right on top of him. With something akin to alarm he experienced an immediate response of heat rushing down towards his groin, so fast he could do nothing to stop it. Trying in vain to stop the reaction to Harry's proximity and position, Draco stopped moving, lying still as a statue beneath the exuberant Harry.

"You're coming with me to work today!" Harry was saying, continuing to bounce without noticing that Draco had frozen beneath him. "Come on, get out of bed. We're gonna go early so I can get you an interview with the Head of the Department of Magical Healing and Emergency Aid." When Draco still didn't move, Harry grumbled and gave an extra hard bounce, which only increased Draco's growing problem. Draco stifled a moan as Harry's bounce caused the covers to press down right _there, _and in one fluid movement Draco grabbed Harry and flung him down onto the bed beside him, so they were lying face-to face.

"Harry," Draco said, his eyes screwed shut and trying to keep his voice steady while ignoring the uncomfortable tightness in his pants, "Never bounce on me again like that. Unless you want me to things to you which you probably don't want right now. Understand?"

Harry looked at Draco for a moment, clueless. "What?" he asked innocently, his head tilting to one side as it lay on the pillow.

Draco just looked at Harry, not willing to clarify what he was trying to say. After a moment, a deep blush flooded Harry's cheeks, and he immediately nodded. Draco breathed a sigh of relief that Harry understood. "I'm sorry, Draco," the other man stammered, clearly uncomfortable. "I didn't realize that you were, uh, _that_ aware of my, um, actions. I won't do it again, I promise. I'm really so sorry."

Harry's blush deepened and he didn't look as if he knew quite what to do with himself. His green eyes shining with embarrassment, Harry was trying to look anywhere but at Draco. Draco smirked and rolled on top of Harry, making sure that there was just a sliver of space separating them down the length of their bodies. Bringing his head down closer so that his hair hung down in a curtain around Harry's face, Draco's smirk widened when he saw Harry's eyes widen in alarm. "Draco?" Harry asked tentatively, and Draco loved the little tremor in Harry's voice.

"You _did _cause this, Harry. Now you have to live with the punishment," Draco purred into Harry's ear. Draco saw Harry's eyes flicker downwards, to what he was referring to as _this, _and Draco felt it give a twinge of need when Draco forced himself not to claim Harry then and there.

Harry wetted his lips, his small pink tongue darting out to smooth over those delicious strawberry lips. "What punishment are we talking about here?" he asked uncertainly.

Draco lowered his head so that he could kiss Harry's neck. Seeing the faded mark he'd made from last night, Draco smiled and bit down into Harry's throat. Harry jerked as Draco's teeth sank into the sensitive skin above his collarbone, and didn't let go. "Draco!" Harry cried, his hands coming up and trying to push Draco off of him.

Draco stubbornly hung on as Harry's attempts to push him off became weaker and weaker. Finally deeming that he'd made a deep enough mark to last for a few days at least, Draco used his tongue to smooth over the bite marks. Harry sighed when he felt Draco's warm tongue sliding over his skin, relaxing into the bed sheets while Draco was still positioned above him. "Really, Draco. I don't see why you seem to have this obsession over biting me all the time," Harry said reproachfully. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were a vampire or something."

Draco hummed into Harry's neck. "Truly, Harry? A vampire's the best thing you can compare me to? I see your creativity hasn't improved at all since our school days." Harry snorted in amusement. Draco smiled, and then continued. "Besides, I don't have an obsession over biting you."

Draco could sense Harry raising his eyebrows. "Yeah? You bit me last night, and now you bite me in the morning? That's two times in, what, one and a half days? I think that's considered a bit abnormal. Besides, you're leaving these blasted marks all over my neck."

Draco bit Harry again, just to prove that he didn't care whether Harry liked it or not. Harry jerked his head, but only succeeded in giving Draco more access to his neck. "Draco!" Harry said again, slightly irritated.

Draco observed the new marks he'd made. One was deep and purpling slightly, and the one he'd just licked was reddening nicely. The one from the previous night was dark blue, which meant it was healing and would be gone by tomorrow. Huffing with satisfaction, Draco grinned smugly. "You're mine, Harry," he said confidently. "These marks prove it. Nobody'll be able to take you away."

Harry rolled his eyes, but a slight pink blush darkened his fair skin. "Whatever, you big Hufflepuff. Now let's _go, _or else we're gonna be late. And Ron _hates_ it when I'm late, since then _he'll_ get saddled with all the paperwork."

Draco rolled off of Harry with some reluctance, watching Harry pad out of the room in his bare feet. Turning at the door, Harry surveyed Draco, who was still lounging on the bed. "Draco, come _on. _I'm leaving in half an hour, whether you're ready or not."


	5. A New Chance

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any characters or settings mentioned in this story. This is a non-profit fanfiction, and all named characters and settings are the copyrighted property of J.K. Rowling.

* * *

Draco and Harry Flooed over to the Ministry of Magic, since Harry as an Auror had high enough clearance to be able to connect his Floo network at home directly to the Ministry's fireplaces. "We'll go see Angela Wolff about that Mediwizard interview first," Harry declared after they'd gotten a visitor's pass for Draco from the security desk. "And then you can come over to my office. Ron and I only have one mission going on right now, but we have to wait for the ex-Death Eaters to come out, so we've basically been just lazing around for the past few days."

Draco followed Harry through the winding halls and down the jerking elevators of the Ministry of Magic. Darting interdepartmental memos fluttered through the air, flying off to their own destinations. Harry walked confidently in front, seeming to know exactly where he was going. Draco looked around at the people and rooms they passed, but lowered his eyes when he was met with a scowl or a grimace or expressions of complete outrage. The other Ministry employees obviously didn't like the thought of an ex-Death Eater walking the halls of their sacred Ministry, but with Draco so obviously invited there by none other than the Hero of the Wizarding world himself, none dared to question his presence.

"Here we are," Harry said proudly as they, at last, stopped in front of a great wooden door. On the front of the door and emblazoned in neat golden filigree were the words _Department of Magical Healing and Emergency Aid_. Smiling as he pushed the door open, Harry walked in before beckoning to Draco to follow.

The inside room was full of bustling Healers in their white robes and Mediwizards in their dove gray ones. One or two Aurors were distinctly noticeable among the crowd of lightly colored robes in their crimson uniforms. As the door opened, all eyes turned towards the doorway to see the new arrivals, and all motion stopped when everybody noticed the Hero standing there. Silence descended, the bustle of movement and chatter stopping almost instantly.

Draco saw Harry's extreme discomfort at the turn of events, as the smaller man ran a hand through his tangle of black curls. "Uh, hi," Harry said weakly to the room. "We're, uh, just wanting to see the Head of the Department, um, if that's ok?"

Nobody moved for five seconds, and Harry fidgeted on the spot. Draco felt an urge to put a comforting arm around the man, but stopped himself. He was sure that displaying such an intimate gesture in this room full of strangers would be unwise, and the press would be upon Harry and him in seconds if news got out of Draco's apparent 'confession' the other day.

Suddenly, a short and stout man in Healer's robes broke away from the crowd and approached Harry. "Hello there, Mr. Potter," he greeted jovially. "Great surprise to see you again here in our humble department. You said you wished to meet the Department Head? Ms. Wolff? Come right this way. You're, ah, guest, however," the man said uncertainly, wringing his hands and glancing at Draco. "Um, pardon me for prying, but isn't he, eh, what do you call them? Ah. Isn't he one of those _ex-Death Eaters, _Mr. Potter?"

In the time that the short man had been talking to Harry, the rest of the people in the room had started up their previous activities, although now there was much less chattering as everybody in the room strained their ears to eavesdrop on the Hero's conversation.

Harry apparently regained his nerve at the short man's tone. "Mr. Langley," Harry said sharply, his fists clenching and straightening up so that he towered over the little man. Draco nearly smirked at the way the paunchy man quailed as Harry focused intently on him. It was never a good thing to have all of Harry's intensity and power directed at you, after all. "Draco Malfoy is not an ex-Death Eater. Yes, he may have worked for Voldemort-" The entire room, including Draco, sucked in a breath at the use of the Dark Lord's name, "But as I have stated three years ago at his trial, he and his family have defected to the Light, and were all vital to the defeat of Voldemort in the end at the Battle of Hogwarts. So no, he is not an _ex-Death Eater, _as you so bluntly put it. He is a hero, just as much as I or anybody else who fought and survived in the War."

Draco felt warmed by Harry's defense of him, and the small man – Mr. Langley – obviously decided that there were less dangerous things to do than argue with the Savior about some trifling matter. Pursing his lips and tapping his feet as he considered Draco before him, he at last gave a small nod. "Very well, Mr. Potter. As you seem to have full confidence in your guest here, I will take you two to Ms. Wolff right away, but only because you have vouched for him. If he creates any trouble, Mr. Potter," Mr. Langley started, looking only at Harry and only stealing quick glances at Draco.

"I do so dislike it when people talk as if I am not present," Draco interrupted idly, smirking at the fat little man. Mr. Langley's gaze locked onto him at the sound of his voice. "And really, it's not as if I'd suddenly go crazy and start rampaging all over this little Department of yours, raving about the Dark Lord's return and killing people left and right. Besides being quite pointless an act, I'm afraid doing something like going on a spontaneous killing spree really would ruin my clothes this morning." So saying, Draco gestured down at the impressive set of robes he was wearing, courtesy of Harry deciding to enlarge one of his so-called 'fancy, useless things' for Draco to wear, so that Draco would be properly dressed for his interview, instead of just wearing the slacks and long-sleeved shirts he'd been wearing after starting to live with Harry.

Harry disguised a burst of laughter as a choking sort of cough. Draco hid a smile, while Mr. Langley's gaze flickered back and forth between Harry and him. "Very well, Mr.…?" he said questioningly.

"Malfoy. Draco Malfoy," Draco said, making no move to shake hands with the short man. Langley did likewise, his hands kept firmly entwined in front of his large stomach.

Langley's eyes widened in sudden understanding. Draco wondered what the other man suddenly thought of, after learning his name. "Isn't he the one who's-" he began to ask Harry, before Harry cut him off with a hiss.

"Mr. Langley. If you would so kindly lead us to Ms. Wolff's office now, I would greatly appreciate it." Harry's voice held an edge of steel, and no inch of compromise. Langley swallowed hastily and nodded, his hands beginning to twist in front of him again.

"Of course, Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy. Right away." The short little man began waddling through the bustle of the Department lobby, walking over to the far side and down a short private hallway. Knocking on the door at the very end of the hall, upon which was emblazoned _Angela Wolff, Department Head, _he quietly announced, "Mr. Harry Potter and his guest Mr. Draco Malfoy are here to see you, Ms. Wolff."

An imperious female voice sounded from the other side of the door. "Send them in." Langley opened the door for Harry and Draco, and stepped aside. Harry nodded in thanks as he passed, while Draco glanced down his nose at the little man. Langley avoided Draco's gaze, instead focusing on his twisting hands, and then closed the door gently behind Draco after he'd entered the office. With quick steps, Draco listened as Langley walked back down the hallway to the Department lobby, no doubt to start gossiping about what Harry Potter could possibly be doing with Draco Malfoy.

"Harry. How nice to see you again. I was beginning to think you'd forgotten all about me," the female voice said again. Draco turned and saw an extraordinarily beautiful woman sitting behind a solid ebony desk, with chestnut curls that fell unbound to her waist and small, delicate features. She was wearing something Muggle; one of those suit-and-skirt things that important Muggle women wore. The lady couldn't have been more than thirty, but her blue eyes looked out at the world with such wisdom and understanding that she could've been over two hundred.

Harry smiled at the woman. "Never, Ms. Wolff. After all, who would ever dare forget about someone like you?" Angela smiled at the well-delivered compliment, a perfect mix of humble honesty and mischievous impertinence.

"Come, Harry. Give me a hug and stop acting so distant. I understand those-" She frowned and waved her hands, searching for the right word, "Outsiders in the lobby don't understand you, and you have no choice to act like that. But here, in my office, you're always welcome to be who you are." Standing up and walking around her desk, Angela enveloped Harry in a tight hug, her perfume of forest pine settling like a cloud around her figure. Harry smiled and returned the hug.

Draco felt a stab of annoyance. Who was this woman, who claimed that she knew who Harry really was? And where did she get off, hugging Harry so tightly? Clearing his throat loudly, Draco interrupted the hugging scene in front of him.

Angela abruptly let go of Harry, turning and facing Draco with an icy look in her eyes. "Draco Malfoy, is it?" she stated. It wasn't a question. "What might you be doing here, with Harry no less?"

Draco met her stare with an equally frosty one of his own. "I have come to consult you in some matters which have arisen as of recently concerning my future employment options," he said haughtily. "As I can see that you no more enjoy my company as I do yours, I presume that this visit has come to a stalemate. If you will excuse me, I will take my leave." Draco just wanted to get out of the office, and away from this woman who still had a hand on his Harry's shoulder.

Harry chose that moment to diffuse the tension crackling between Draco and the other woman. "Come now, don't be like that, you guys," he said cheerfully. "Let's all sit down, and then we can talk, yeah?"

Angela and Draco both turned to face Harry, who smiled at them both. They sighed, unable to resist anything the Savior asked for. "All right," Angela said in defeat, moving back to sit behind her desk. Motioning with her hand for Harry and Draco to sit in the two leather chairs placed in front of the desk, she continued. "So, what brings you here today, Harry? You almost never visit me anymore, so I presume this must be a matter of importance."

Harry nodded, glancing over at Draco. "Draco has expressed an interest in studying to become a Mediwizard, Angie," Harry began. Draco scowled at the pet name for the woman. "So I was hoping you could give him some more details, and if he wants, if you could set him up with some standard training. I will cover all the expenses, obviously."

Draco opened his mouth to argue about the fact that Harry would be paying for his Mediwizard training, but Angela cut him off. "Does he have any qualifications?" she asked sharply, eyeing Draco up and down. "Any N.E.W.T.'s? It's standard expectations for all potential Mediwizard trainees to have an Outstanding in Potions, Exceeds Expectations in Herbology, and at the very least an Acceptable in Charms, Transfiguration, and Defense Against the Dark Arts."

Harry smiled sheepishly. "Well, Angie, I was hoping you could do me a favor on that part. You see, what with the War going on and everything, almost no students at Hogwarts in my grade got any N.E.W.T.'s. Some chose to go back for their eighth year, but Draco, being who he is, had no choice but to live in solitude for the past three years in his family's Manor, for fear of being attacked on the streets. That's why I came to you. Draco's always been really good at Potions, though, and he's done well in all his classes at Hogwarts. I believe he ranked pretty highly when we did our O.W.L.'s back in fifth year, so maybe you could disregard the fact he never got any N.E.W.T.'s?"

Draco was surprised and quite pleased that Harry remembered his performance in school. He was almost pleased enough to cover up his increasing irritation of Harry's apparent familiarity with the woman. Almost.

Angela Wolff observed Draco with calculating eyes. "What do you have to say for yourself?" she asked him suddenly. "Mediwizard training is intensive and difficult, and not many are able to complete it, even if they have the proper starting qualifications. Some may even argue that Mediwizard training is harder than even the Auror Examinations. What makes you think that you, with your reputation and the fact that you've never even completed basic schooling, would be able to succeed where countless others have failed?"

Draco raised his eyebrows. Angela Wolff was a blunt and candid woman, and Draco decided that the best way to answer her was to be blunt and candid himself. "Determination," he said seriously.

Her expression turned haughty. "Determination?" she asked incredulously, a sneer on her lips. She was obviously looking down on Draco.

Draco nodded. "Determination. I have a determination to succeed, to make something of my life, to give myself a purpose that I can be proud of working for. I know that it'll be hard. Heck, all my life has been hard. But I know for a fact that your Mediwizard training will be nothing compared to having to take on the Dark Mark at the age of sixteen in order to protect your own mother's life from a madman who took over your home and insane relatives trying to force you to kill and torture countless innocents. Those other dropouts you were talking about, they had all the qualifications necessary. They probably never had to worry about failing all their life. But I'm not like them. I've had to do things, horrible things, to keep my family and myself alive. I've survived a War fighting on a losing side, survived on nothing but luck and the will to keep living. I _know_ that I have enough determination to succeed in the training. That's what's different between me and the other trainees."

Draco saw from the corner of his eye that Harry was smiling proudly at him. Draco's heart was pounding from his speech. He had never been so honest, so genuinely blunt without any barriers or consideration for politeness in his life. It had felt amazing, to finally be able to say what he wanted to say. And now he had to see the result.

Angela was looking at him thoughtfully. "You're right, you do seem different from the other trainees," she considered. "You're tougher, and accustomed to hardship, and I heard a hint of desperation as well back there."

Draco said nothing, only waited. Either the woman would accept him for the training, or Harry would've wasted his effort in bringing Draco to the Ministry.

"I like you," Angela decided finally. "You interest me. You'll be my experiment, a project of sorts. I want to see how far you can go. Besides, it's a favor to my dear Harry, as well," she said, smiling at Harry, "And I can never refuse our beloved Hero. I'll accept you into Mediwizard training, starting Monday after the coming weekend. Until that time, I suggest you study up on your material. Training officially began two months ago, in June. You'll have to be put into a class that's already started, and you'll have two months of work to catch up on."

Draco nodded in understanding, relaxing his posture a fraction of an inch. "Come here, to this Department, on Monday eight o'clock sharp. Langley can show you the way to the classrooms and training rooms. You'll get your course books on Monday as well from the trainers," Angela finished. Draco stood up, the meeting concluded.

"Oh, and Harry, do come by sometime and visit more often. I really get bored when you're gone for so long."

Harry stood up and smiled. "Of course, Angie. I'll be here next Monday morning, for Draco's first day." Angela stood up and hugged Harry tightly once more. Draco scowled; he would never like the woman, what with her hugging Harry all the time. Angela saw his scowl and smirked smugly at him from over Harry's shoulder.

"Goodbye, Harry," she called as they opened the door of her office. "Oh, and Mr. Malfoy?" Draco turned around, wondering what else she was going to say. "I don't care much about what you do or not, but Harry has done a lot for you to secure this position, and Harry seems to have high hopes for your success. For Harry, if nothing else, I hope you make it. I wish you luck."

Draco nodded politely at the woman, before closing the door softly behind him. He realized that though Angela Wolff was not so much his ally, at least they seemed to share a common goal. To protect Harry, and to let him keep smiling that beautiful carefree smile.

* * *

"I think that went pretty well," Harry said happily as they walked side-by-side down the hall, stopping to wait for an elevator to bring them back up to level two, the level for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and where Harry's office was.

Draco hummed in agreement, focusing instead on the faint scent of forest pine lingering around Harry from Angela's perfume when she'd hugged Harry twice. Draco found himself frowning, eager for Harry's natural soap-and-pastry smell to be back. The elevator pinged, the doors opening to reveal it's already full interior, and they stepped in. Harry pressed the button for level two, and they held onto the overhead handles as the elevator jerked into motion.

"Sorry about that," Harry grumbled as he almost fell into a man standing behind him. "You'd think that this, being the British Ministry of Magic, would have smoother elevator services."

The man nodded in agreement, his many chins wobbling along, before returning to peering at a folder full of files he was studying. The elevator stopped at level two, and Draco and Harry stepped out, leaving the cramped compartment.

Harry cast a quick tempus charm, and sighed at the time. "Nine thirty. I was supposed to be here at nine o'clock sharp. Ron's gonna be angry at me again."

Draco smirked. "I think Weasley deserves to do some of that paperwork he so hates. It'll probably expand his vocabulary, and perhaps even increase his already far too limited brain capacity."

Harry elbowed Draco in the ribs, but he couldn't stop the snort of laughter that escaped. "Draco, you git. Don't say that in front of Ron, he's really touchy about things like that, since Hermione's always saying the same thing to him."

Draco laughed. "Granger? To Weasley? I can imagine that. Like an old couple bickering, I presume?"

Harry nodded, smiling. "Yeah. Exactly like that. They get on each other's nerves all the time, but they just can't live without each other. It's actually really sweet. I hope Ron gets up the courage to propose soon, since Hermione's obviously waiting."

Draco rolled his eyes, grabbing Harry's wrist and pulling him into a secluded alcove away from the main hallway. Pushing Harry against the wall, Draco trapped the smaller man by placing his hands on the wall on either side of Harry's face. "Blast it, Harry," Draco whispered, hiding Harry from view in case of any curious onlookers who happened to peer into the darkness of the alcove, "If you act like such a sodding romantic all the time, I'll have no choice but to kiss you. My self-control has its limits, you know."

Harry laughed and trailed a finger up Draco's stomach and chest, his hand coming to rest in the crook of Draco's neck. Draco suppressed a shiver at the light contact. "Oh?" Harry asked mischievously. "What if I do that? Can your iron bound self-control handle that?"

Draco groaned. "Don't push me, Harry."

Harry's eyebrows rose, amusement in his smile. "You're the one who has me pushed up against the wall, Draco. I think I should be telling _you_ not to push _me._" Harry's fingers ghosted over Draco's neck, coming up to brush his jaw and trace his lips. Draco closed his eyes at the incredible feel of Harry's warmth, and leaned down to snog the other man senseless for doing something like that to him.

But Harry was too fast for him. The hand tracing his lips suddenly came up and covered Draco's mouth, a second before his lips would've touched Harry's. Draco's eyes fluttered open, Harry's emerald gaze just inches from his own. "Oh, no you don't, Draco," Harry said teasingly. "We're in the Ministry of Magic, for Merlin's sake, and I'm already late enough as it is. Come to think of it, we should really get going to my office now. Ron will be furious at me. Ok?"

Draco growled in frustration, and Harry smiled brightly at him before coming up onto his toes and kissing Draco lightly on the tip of his nose. "Don't be angry, Draco. Please?" Harry looked up at Draco with the most adorable big-eyed puppy look, and Draco's frustration just _melted_ in the face of such utter cuteness. Straightening and crushing Harry to him, Draco whispered into Harry's hair, "Never look at me like that again, unless you want me to take you right now here in the Ministry. Damn Weasley and his paperwork."

Harry chuckled and stepped out of Draco's tight hug. "I'll remember that next time," he said teasingly. Draco couldn't stop a smile as he followed Harry down the hall, down to a door that was marked _Potter and Weasley_.

Opening the door and stepping inside, two voices were immediately audible in the otherwise quiet room. "Harry's still not here," was Weasley's distinctive low rumble. "Don't know what he's doing with Malfoy to make him so late. Yesterday he was all dazed coming in to work, remember?"

"I don't know. Harry must have his reasons," came Granger's reasonable tone. "Besides, you should stop worrying about Harry and focus on that report. It's due by noon, and you've barely started, Ron!"

Harry smiled at his two friends, Ron lounging behind his desk and Hermione placed on a chair in front of it. "Good morning, guys," he said, interrupting Ron's arguing as to all the reasons why the report wasn't as important as Harry's whereabouts.

Draco watched as Weasley and Granger both turned at the exact same moment to face the doorway. "Harry! Finally made it. About bloody time, too. I need you to help me fill out this blasted report on the status of our mission with Mal-" Weasley suddenly stopped himself when he saw Draco lingering in the hallway behind Harry. "What's _he_ doing here?" Weasley asked stupidly.

Granger shushed Weasley, standing up and coming over to Harry. "Great to see you, Harry. You were all dazed and out of it yesterday, and I'm glad to see you're back to normal. And you invited Malfoy along." Granger turned her smile to Draco, her eyes glancing quickly over at the sling holding Draco's bad arm in place, and then lifting back up to his face. Draco nodded at her in greeting.

"Granger," he said politely.

"How's living with Harry been, Malfoy? I can't imagine you two would get along together very well, but everything seems to be fine," Granger said pleasantly. "Especially after you're, uh, revelation in Diagon Alley." A slight blush came up on Granger's cheeks, and she abruptly turned back to Harry. Draco felt a stab of guilt for lying to all of them, since they still all believed him to have had the 'crush' on Harry for ten years.

"It's been quite pleasant, actually," Draco said to Granger. "Harry has been nothing but courteous and kind in accepting me into his home, and providing me with every necessity."

Granger raised her eyebrows at Draco, looking between Draco to Harry and back again. "A first name basis already? After only two days? Well, you two seem to get along spectacularly. No more rivalry then, I presume?"

Harry smiled at Granger. "Yeah. Draco and I are doing all right."

Granger smiled, but it quickly morphed into a frown. "Hey, Harry. You have something on your neck," she said, and leaned closer. "It looks like a bruise of some sort. Were you fighting somebody?" She peered intently at Harry's neck, just above the collar of his Auror's robes.

Harry quickly slapped a hand up to cover his neck, his face turning a deep red. "Ah, no, Hermione. I haven't been fighting anyone," Harry said nervously. Granger's eyes narrowed, and Draco could almost hear her brain working. Suddenly, her eyes widened.

"Harry," she exclaimed, looking from Harry to Draco and back again. "Is that a _hickey?" _

Harry's blush deepened. "Uh, well, you see," he stammered out, obviously at a loss for words, with his hands still over his neck to hide the marks. Draco couldn't help but smirk smugly at the dark-haired man, leaning on the doorframe and watching the proceedings with amusement.

Weasley chose this time to perk up. "What? Harry's got a hickey? From fighting? Who's the bastard who dared to hurt Harry in a fight? Was it a wizard's duel? Or a fistfight? Probably a fistfight, since nobody can win against Harry in a wizard's duel. Where's the man, Harry? I'll get him for you."

Harry looked at his best friend with alarm, and Draco couldn't hold back a snort of laughter at the Weasley's stupidity. Granger just stared incredulously at Weasley. "Uh, Ron," Granger said slowly, "Do you know what a hickey is?"

Weasley frowned. "It's some sort of wound Harry's got from fighting, isn't it?"

Harry shook his head quickly, his hands still stuck onto his neck. "No, Ron. I haven't fought anyone. Don't worry."

Weasley looked confused. "Then how did you get hurt?"

Granger sighed and walked over to Ron. Leaning down, she whispered the meaning of hickey into his ear. Harry shot Draco a deadly glare for causing this to happen, and Draco just smirked, feeling inordinately satisfied with himself.

Weasley suddenly shouted out in surprise, almost toppling off of his desk chair and his face flushing red as well. "Harry's got a _what?_" he yelled. Granger hastily shushed him, looking at the open office door. Draco quickly moved away from the doorframe and closed the door softly, so nobody from the hallway would be able to overhear their conversation.

Weasley lowered his voice, but his face was still red and his blue eyes were looking furiously at Draco. "You bastard," he hissed. "You're taking advantage of Harry, aren't you? That's why he was all dazed yesterday coming in to work. I should've seen it coming. I _knew_ trusting you wasn't a good idea."

Draco narrowed his eyes, but Harry hastily interjected. "No, Ron. You've got it all wrong. Draco never took advantage of me or anything."

Weasley turned on Harry. "What, you expect me to believe that you _wanted _him to do that to you?" Weasley waved his hand in the vague direction of Harry's neck.

Harry said nothing, and his face only turned even redder. He almost looked as if he was about to cry, and Draco laid a comforting hand on the other man's back.

Weasley looked from Harry's expression to Draco's hand on his best friend, taking in Harry's silence. "Oh," he said at last, looking half-stunned and half-disbelieving at the same time. "Oh," he repeated, before falling back into his desk chair and looking as if he'd just found out his whole life had been a lie.

"You see, Ron, it just sort of happened and-" Harry began, but Ron cut him off with a raised hand, his brow furrowed and his face deathly pale, making his freckles stark against his skin.

"Please, Harry. I don't care what's going on between you and Malfoy, and trust me, I _really_ don't want to know. I don't care if you're, uh, _together,_ and I just want you to be happy, but please. _Don't _tell me _anything_ about it."

Harry nodded, seeming to be relieved. Granger spoke up. "So, uh, how did you two get so, um, close?" she asked into the tense silence.

Harry gave Granger a smile of thanks for making the uncomfortable conversation turn into less dangerous waters. "He likes my cooking, and we went for an interview for him this morning for Mediwizard training. He's nothing like the git we knew back in Hogwarts."

Granger's eyes immediately focused on Draco. "Mediwizard training? You do realize that it's even tougher than Healer education? Are you sure you'll be able to handle it?"

Draco gave a regal tilt of his head to acknowledge her question. "I will do my best," he replied shortly.

Harry grinned at him and moved to sit at his desk, motioning for Draco to take the seat in front of the desk as Granger sat on the edge of the oak table. Weasley got up from his desk on the other side of the room and came over as well, standing beside Granger. "What Draco means, 'Mione," Harry elaborated, "Is that he's interested in becoming an Mediwizard, and is prepared for the training. That's why I was so late this morning. Sorry about that, by the way, mate. Hope you aren't too bogged down with the reports," Harry said to Weasley.

He shrugged, seeming to have pushed the thought of Harry and Draco _together _out of his mind, and decided to pretend he never thought it. "It's no problem, Harry. It's not your fault, anyways. Blast Kingsley for making us write the reports all the time. Once a week is fine, but a three feet long parchment report every single _day? _We're Aurors, not scribes. We should get someone to write our reports for us."

Harry laughed while Granger smacked Weasley on the shoulder with a book. "Ronald, those reports are _important, _you know. They're valuable documents that contain the records of Auror movements every single day. They're not mandatory just because Kingsley _wants_ you to write them."

Weasley rolled his eyes. "Could've fooled me," he muttered. Granger smacked him again.

"Oh yeah, Malfoy. Did you hear from Harry about the dinner at the Burrow on Saturday?" Weasley asked suddenly, effectively turning the conversation away from the report that he still had to write.

Draco nodded. "Yes. I had the pleasure of reading Granger's note to Harry about the event."

Weasley waited for more, but when Draco didn't continue he asked, "So? Are you coming? I have to tell Mum how many plates to set out for dinner, and it'll be best if I know beforehand so she isn't pestering me about it on the day of."

Draco hesitated a moment, looking over to where Harry sat, watching him. "I, um," Draco stalled for time. Harry took the hint and intervened.

"Draco's still thinking about it," Harry told Weasley. "He doesn't want to intrude or anything."

Weasley understood, and nodded. "Well, glad to know you're thinking about it, at least. Tell Harry when you know for sure, okay Malfoy?" he asked generously.

Draco nodded, surprised that he had just had an actual polite, albeit short, conversation with the Weasley, without any insults or sneers. Living with Harry really was bringing about a whole lot of new experiences, Draco realized. "I appreciate the invitation," Draco said to Weasley. "I know that it must've been a difficult decision for you to make, seeing as your family has all the more reason to hate what I once was."

Weasley looked shocked for a moment that Draco would actually say something like that, but quickly found his tongue. "Don't worry about it, mate. Past is all done and buried, eh? You've definitely changed, at least. Can't imagine the old Malfoy saying that to a blood-traitor Weasley before the War."

Granger rolled her eyes at Weasley's words. "Really, Ron. Tact seems to constantly evade you," she lectured. Weasley just sighed and patiently listened to her go on about how delicacy in phrasing would mean all the difference later on in life. Draco smirked at them, while Harry laughed. They really were already like an old couple bickering.

Granger finally finished her lecture and looked towards Harry and Draco, both who had been listening to her berate Ron with hardly concealed amusement. "Harry, Malfoy. I'm gonna go back down to my office now, or else my boss will have my head for hanging around you Aurors all the time. I'll see you at lunch break."

Harry nodded and lifted a hand. "Bye, 'Mione. Go easy on Ron there, okay? He seems to be kinda dazed after that talking to." Draco looked at Weasley and saw that his eyes were unfocused, and he was glassily staring at the far wall, apparently completely zoned out.

Granger huffed and grabbed Weasley by the arm, dragging him with her towards the door to the office. "I'm taking him down with me. He's not going to work on that report, anyways." Weasley just obediently followed along, allowing Granger to pull him away from Harry's desk and across the room. Turning at the door, Granger looked back at them. "Harry, finish that report for Kingsley, it's due by noon. Malfoy," Granger looked directly at Draco. "Make sure Harry finishes that report. These two won't get anything done without me here to tell them to, but since you're here I'll trust you to take care of Harry."

Draco nodded and Granger left, pulling Weasley away with her. As the door swung shut behind them, Draco could hear Weasley complaining loudly about being manhandled by his girlfriend.

Harry sighed, then walked over to Weasley's desk and picked up a mostly empty sheet of parchment from the messy surface. Bringing it over to his own desk, he quickly read through the paragraph or so that Weasley had already written, then sighed. Draco raised his eyebrows in a silent question.

"Ron's never been good at writing reports," Harry said by way of explanation. "It's only due to Hermione's constant help that we both managed to pass our six years at Hogwarts, after all." Draco snorted, and watched as Harry took out his wand and brought it to his temple. Wincing slightly as he concentrated, he pulled out a glowing green thread from his temple with the point of his wand, and then dropped the thread onto the mostly empty parchment.

Immediately, the parchment was filled with lines of neat script, filling the entire three feet long area with glistening black ink. Draco whistled softly under his breath. "That's a handy spell to have," he said as Harry dried the ink with a quick drying charm.

Harry grinned. "Yeah. I invented it a while back, when Ron was complaining about the reports even more than he does now. It follows the same theory as the memory threads with a Pensieve, except this one is used for turning memories into writing onto parchment. Saves a lot of time actually writing the reports by hand."

Draco smiled at Harry's brilliance. It wasn't every wizard who could just invent such complex new spells, after all. Only great and exceptionally powerful wizards could ever hope to invent new spells. "Does Weasley know about this?"

Harry nodded. "I tried teaching him the spell, but he just doesn't get it. That's why he's always eager for me to be on time for work, so I can finish the reports before Hermione comes in. We told Hermione about the spell and she says that we shouldn't use it, so we just finish the reports before she comes in and that way she can't do anything about it."

Draco smirked at the Slytherin way Harry was acting. Really, the man could've made a brilliant Slytherin, if he hadn't already been such a perfect Gryffindor. Harry folded the parchment neatly into the shape of a paper airplane, and then charmed it, whispering "Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister of Magic," softly to the plane before sending it flying through the doorway and off to the Minister's office.

"So, what are you going to do now?" Draco asked curiously.

Harry shrugged. "Not much. I told you, remember? Ron and I only have one mission right now, but since we have to wait for the ex-Death Eaters to reveal themselves, there's not much we can do. Since the report for today is finished, I basically have the whole day free."

Draco smirked. "And since Weasley and Granger have disappeared, does that mean you're all mine?"

Harry blushed. "Draco, this is the Ministry of Magic. Really, you are the most stubborn man I've ever met. Don't you _ever _think about anything else?"

Shrugging, Draco leaned back in his seat. "What do you expect? I've been in love with you since we first met. Now that I can finally have you, I'm bound to think of nothing else." When Harry blushed even more, Draco felt the knot of satisfaction in him curl even tighter. Draco's lips rose in a genuine smile.

Harry suddenly perked up, his blush receding. Glaring at Draco, Harry stood and walked around his desk to stand right in front of Draco's chair. "Oh, and by the way, I still haven't forgiven you for those marks you left on my neck," Harry said angrily. "I can't believe you would _do_ that. And Ron's _never _going to let me forget about it, once he's accepted the whole thing."

Draco's smile widened. It was nice to see Harry all flustered, since his cheeks turned a pale pink and his tangled hair fell into his eyes. "_Draco, _don't just sit there and smirk at me. Do you _understand _what I'm saying? I didn't realize it at first, but since Hermione's pointed it out, I'm sure _everybody_ can see those bite marks you left. I thought my collar would cover them, but apparently it doesn't. What can I do?"

Draco interrupted Harry's tirade by grabbing one of his hands and pulling him forwards. Harry's eyes widened as he lost his balance at the sudden motion, and he toppled forwards until he was straddling Draco's waist while Draco sat on the chair, sitting on his lap. "Draco, what are you-" Harry began, but his words trailed off into a breathy sigh as Draco latched his arms firmly around Harry's waist and proceeded to bite his neck again, directly underneath his left ear.

Harry found his arms winding involuntarily around Draco's neck, his hands burying themselves in the pale blond hair. "Draco," Harry said, hating the way his voice trembled. "Draco, really. Biting me again is definitely _not_ the solution to what I just said. I'm trying to be serious, and you're just being impossible."

Draco smirked as he felt Harry's arms wind around him, and the breathy sound of his name from the other man's lips. He knew Harry didn't want him to bite him anymore, but Draco couldn't resist. Those marks on Harry were made by him, and he wasn't about to let anybody else take Harry away from him. Besides, Harry didn't seem to mind the biting as much as he had at first. Licking over the newest mark he'd left on Harry's neck, Draco proceeded to trail kisses all the way down Harry's neck, until he couldn't go any further because of the collar of Harry's Auror uniform. "I'm not being impossible, this is just the way I am," Draco murmured against the delicious scent of Harry's skin. "Besides, I'll let you bite me as well, if you want."

Harry laughed, and Draco hummed in contentment, his face buried in the crook of Harry's neck. "What's up with you and biting? Draco, biting is not the answer to everything, you know." Draco smiled and nipped lightly at Harry's throat, just to prove that he didn't care. Harry's arms around his neck tightened, and Draco rested his head against Harry's shoulder, looking up at the other man through his lashes.

"I like to bite you," he said honestly, for once having no barriers up. "You are mine, and I'm marking you as mine. I won't let anyone else have you, Harry."

Harry smiled down at him. "Draco, you sap. I'm not going anywhere, okay?" Draco snuggled closer into Harry's warmth, enjoying the feel of Harry sitting on his lap and in his arms. Closing his eyes, Draco smiled in pleasure. Harry really did smell very nice, like the desserts he was always making.

Harry shifted slightly, and Draco felt Harry's lips ghost across his own throat. Humming at the sensation, Draco tilted his head so Harry can get better access. Harry nuzzled at a sensitive spot under Draco's ear, and Draco moaned in pleasure. The feeling was sending waves of warmth down to his groin, but for once he didn't care. Harry was kissing him, voluntarily, and Draco wouldn't have given up that moment for the world.

Draco's eyes fluttered open as he felt Harry's teeth on his skin; playfully nipping at the spot he'd been nuzzling a moment before. "Harry?" he asked, turning his head slightly towards the other man.

He felt Harry laugh against his neck. "You did say I could bite you too, Draco. It's only fair, seeing how many times you've bitten me."

Draco smirked and closed his eyes, letting his head fall backwards against the back of the chair he was sitting in. Harry climbed higher on top of him, and Draco's smirk widened as Harry continued to kiss his neck, his collarbones, everywhere the other man could reach. There was an uncomfortable tightening in Draco's pants, and he let out a low groan. "Harry," Draco whispered, his voice hoarse and his arms tightening around the other man, "We should get out of this office."

Harry suddenly leaned back; separating their bodies until they were a foot apart, except for the fact that Harry was still sitting on top of Draco. "You're right, Draco," Harry agreed cheerfully, seemingly not noticing Draco's aroused state at all. "We _should _get out of this office. I can take today and tomorrow off, and we can go someplace. How about it? It'll be fun, I promise."

Draco was left blinking in a daze, his thoughts on nothing but that he wanted Harry to continue to kiss him like he had been doing before. "Huh?" Draco asked uncomprehendingly, hazily looking up at Harry's excited expression.

"Come _on, _Draco. It'll be fun. Please? Say yes?" Harry looked at Draco with his super adorable expression again, and Draco had no choice. He just couldn't resist that face, no matter how hard he tried.

"Yeah?" Draco said uncertainly, not even sure what he was agreeing to.

Harry jumped off of Draco in delight, and Draco frowned, trying to pull Harry back. But Harry took out his wand and waved it over them both. "I'm gonna take you to the zoo, Draco," he announced happily. "A Muggle zoo."

Draco suddenly realized the meaning of Harry's words, and stood up hastily, trying to stop the other man. "Wait, Harry-" he said, reaching out his hand to stop Harry's wand, but he was too late. With a flourish Harry managed to transfigure both their robes into Muggle wear, and, grabbing Draco's outstretched hand, they both Disapparated from the Ministry office with hardly a crack to signal their disappearance.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Sorry I missed the update last week! It's just that I have two ongoing stories right now (not that I have all that many stories to begin with) but writing both of them at the same time is really hard! I lose the mood of the story every time I work on the other one, so it takes longer… Anyways, hope you like this chapter! As always, please review!


	6. The Terror of Giraffes

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any characters or settings mentioned in this story. This is a non-profit fanfiction, and all named characters and settings are the copyrighted property of J.K. Rowling.

* * *

Draco stumbled again as they appeared in a deserted Muggle alleyway. He was steadied by Harry's hand, and Draco suddenly remembered the dangers of him going out in the open like this. Yaxley and the others were all highly skilled in the practice of the Dark Arts; since he was just going out on the unprotected Muggle streets like this, they would be able to track him down in no time. Draco looked down at the smiling dark-haired man beside him, who was eagerly pulling him towards the main street, where plenty of Muggles walked about. This single man was the only thing standing between Draco and a certain, slow, tortuous death. Draco hurriedly grabbed Harry by the shoulders and made the other man look him in the eyes.

"Harry, um, are you sure this is a good idea?" Draco asked seriously, trying his best to get the other man to Apparate them both back to the Ministry or Grimmauld Place without alerting Harry to the fact that something was wrong.

Harry completely missed Draco's unspoken words. "Yep, I think this is a brilliant idea, actually," the dark-haired man said, grinning widely at Draco. "Last time I came here was just before my eleventh birthday, with my aunt, uncle, and cousin. I've always wanted to come back someday, you know, with some of my actual friends, not with my horrible relatives."

Draco had to bite his tongue to stop himself from saying anything else. Apparently, this trip to the Muggle zoo was important to Harry. And Draco didn't want to upset the other man, no matter how dangerous it was to him. Shaking his head, Draco suppressed the guilt welling inside of him. His life was in danger, and his life was more important than any special feelings Harry might have about going to some zoo. He would always choose his life before Harry, because he was a Malfoy, and he cared about no one other than himself. That was the truth.

Was it?

Draco wasn't sure anymore. Since meeting Harry again in Diagon Alley, Draco had begun to doubt a lot of things that he'd previously thought were irrevocable. Harry was just so different from the colorless life Draco had always known, so special compared to everyone else. Draco didn't know what to do. Would he follow his selfish desires to go back and stay protected, and in the meantime risk Harry's unhappiness, or would he go along with Harry to this zoo and risk his own neck for Harry's sake? Draco knew which choice he was supposed to make. He was a Malfoy, and nothing and no one was worth more than his own life.

It was just the way he had been born.

* * *

Draco found himself standing next to Harry as he bought some tickets with the paper Muggle money that they called cash. Sighing, Draco leaned against the ticket booth, his eyes roaming around and observing the crowds and families around them, searching for any sign of a black shadow or a figure cloaked in darkness. But nothing was out of the ordinary. Only Muggles, filling up the entire space with their low unsophisticated chatter. Draco had always looked down on the unmagical folk; wizards were obviously better than the Muggles, who had to depend on trinkets and toys to complete what a single spell could do in a second. But it seemed that Harry had no such ideas. In fact, he was chatting happily with the lady operating the ticket booth as he counted out the sheets of paper money to pay for their tickets.

"Beautiful weather today," Harry was saying, smiling at the Muggle woman. She couldn't have been more than thirty, with ash-blond hair tied up in a ponytail. "It must be hot sitting in this booth all day."

"Yes, it sure is, sir," the woman answered enthusiastically. "We don't even get AC. Only this tiny little fan that hardly does anything worth mentioning," she gestured to a little spinning thing attached to the ceiling of the ticket office. Draco looked up where her finger was pointing, frowning at the little device.

"What is that, Harry?" he asked, pointing to the same thing the woman had mentioned.

The woman in the ticket booth laughed, a tinkling little sound. "Your friend there has quite a sense of humor," she told Harry. "If I didn't know better, I would think he really didn't know what a fan was."

Harry grinned good-naturedly, while grabbing Draco's hand underneath the counter of the booth. "Yeah. He's a pretty funny guy. Cracks jokes like those all the time, actually."

Draco scowled. He didn't know what they were talking about, but he was smart enough to realize that they were making jokes at his expense. "Hey," he said angrily, "I do _not_ crack jokes like that! I-"

Harry squeezed Draco's hand underneath the counter; effectively communicating that Draco should stop talking. Draco huffed and turned away, but he didn't pull his hand out of Harry's warm grasp.

"Don't mind him," Harry said to the woman, smiling. "He just woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning."

"Oh, it's really alright," the woman said. "You should see some of the people that I have to sell tickets to. Rudest bunch in Britain, I tell you. Not willing to pay even a penny more than they ought."

Harry finished counting out the money and pushed it under the glass barrier separating the inside of the ticket booth from the outside. "Here you go," he said to the lady, accepting the tickets she passed back under the barrier. She counted it quickly.

"You're change is going to be five pounds and twenty pence," she said, sliding out the cash register.

Harry waved it away. "Keep the change," he said with a wink. "Just to prove I'm not one of those rudest bunch in Britain that you were talking about."

The woman laughed again. "Thanks. I hope you enjoy your day!"

Harry dragged Draco away from the ticket booth lady, Draco following along. He didn't really care where they went, as long as Harry didn't let go of his hand.

When they were out of sight of the ticket booths, Harry whirled around. "Draco," he whispered, "We're no longer in the wizarding world anymore, so there're going to be things that you don't understand, like little machines or phrases like the fan the lady was talking about earlier. No matter what, don't make a big deal about them, and don't point them out. Okay?"

Draco shrugged carelessly. "What's the matter?" he asked. "If any Muggles get too curious, we can just Obliviate them so they won't remember anything. Why should I care what Muggles think of me?"

Harry sighed. "Draco, please," he tried again, tightening his grip on Draco's hand. "Please, just go along with it. I don't want to Obliviate anybody today. Let's just have fun, and not attract any attention to ourselves." When Draco still looked skeptically at all the Muggles around them, Harry added, "Please, Draco. For me."

There was no way Draco could refuse something like that. "Fine," he agreed reluctantly, furrowing his brows. Not attracting attention to himself was a foreign concept to Draco, having been born and raised as one of the top classed purebloods in the wizarding world. Harry beamed, and Draco knew that at least he'd done the right thing. As long as Harry was happy, that was all that mattered.

From the corner of his eye, he noticed dark eyes and a black cloak staring at him from across the crowds of milling Muggles. Draco swallowed and resisted his rising panic, putting on a smile when Harry looked at him. Not letting go of Harry's hand, Draco pulled Harry away from the shadows lurking at the edges of his vision. Draco noticed that none of the shadows approached; apparently, Harry was so formidable that Yaxley wasn't going to risk an encounter, not with so many Muggles around at least. For now, they were safe.

* * *

They went around the various cages and exhibits, admiring the animals and creatures on display. The African section was Harry's favorite, since they got to feed giraffes orange peels, the animals' long black tongues darting out and wrapping around the bright peel, chewing on it for a long time, the black tongue licking its lips when it was finished. Draco was slightly less enthusiastic. The knowledge that Yaxley and his lackeys were lurking around made him paranoid, watching his back and monitoring all the Muggles that crowded around them.

At Harry's suggestion, they bought an orange and Harry laughed as a giraffe curled its tongue over his hand, taking the peel. Draco absolutely refused to try feeding one at first; it was unsightly, especially with the animals' lolling black tongues licking all over his hands, but after much encouraging from Harry, he finally agreed to do it once, nervously looking around him to see whether Yaxley or anyone else was going to attack while he was feeding the bloody giraffe the damn peel. Luckily, it seemed the Death Eaters were staying put. Lifting up the tangy citrus peel in the crowd of Muggles all doing the same thing, Draco waited for a giraffe to come and eat it.

"There! Look, Draco! That one's coming!"

Draco looked up to where Harry was pointing, and saw that indeed one of the tall creatures was bending down, its long neck arching gracefully and it's black tongue rolling out, ready to accept the treat. Draco smirked.

"Yeah, come and get it, funny looking animal," he shouted up at the giraffe in a moment of bravado. A feeling of invulnerability suffused him; here he was, feeding giraffes with the Savior of the Wizarding World, while Yaxley and his cronies could do nothing but watch in anger. Harry laughed, which encouraged him to continue. "I wonder how long the peel takes to go down that neck of yours? I hope it doesn't get stuck halfway."

The giraffe's long black tongue twined around the peel, but in the meantime, a long string of slobber dripped out of its mouth, falling perfectly on Draco's upturned face. Snatching his hand back and scooping the slobber out of his eyes, Draco scowled in disgust at the filmy white liquid that coated his hands and his face.

"Ugh," he said, trying to wipe the stuff off on the bars to the giraffe cages. "Harry, you never told me that these things spit!"

Harry just laughed harder, attracting the attention of some passing Muggles. They also chuckled when they saw Draco, covered in giraffe spit. Draco glowered at them, forgetting for a moment that there were Death Eaters surrounding him who were out for his life.

"What're you looking at?" he demanded harshly, which sent the Muggles quickly scurrying away at his threatening tone, not looking back in their direction. Draco glared at their backs all the way.

Harry took out a handkerchief and steadily began wiping Draco's face, still chuckling slightly. "Don't be like that, Draco," he said, finishing with wiping Draco's face and moving down to his hands. "They were just looking. Besides, you did look pretty funny."

Draco scowled. "Stupid giraffes," he said, hurt and embarrassed that Harry was laughing at him. Not to mention that all the Death Eaters surrounding them had probably seen as well, and were all mocking him. Draco could practically _see_ the hostility radiating off of the Death Eaters around them, and everywhere he looked, a dark shadow lurked at the edges of his vision.

Harry smiled up at him, completely oblivious to the danger they were in, and then got on to his tiptoes and kissed Draco lightly on the cheek. "But you have to admit," he said softly in Draco's ear, his green eyes looking up intently at Draco, "You were pretty mean to the poor giraffe."

Draco blinked, momentarily at a loss of words from the gentle kiss, all thoughts of Yaxley and the Death Eaters flying out of his head. "Huh? What?" he asked fuzzily.

Harry kissed Draco again, this time at his jawline. "It seems that whenever I kiss you, you somehow stop responding properly to what I say," he noticed idly.

"Eh?" Draco asked, his brain empty of any thoughts but of how lucky he was to be kissed again. He could barely remember what had made him so panicky before.

Harry giggled. "I _said,_ Draco, that you were being pretty mean to the poor giraffe back then, which explains why it spat on you."

Draco frowned. "They're still stupid giraffes," he grumbled.

Harry rolled his eyes and took Draco's good hand, the one that wasn't in the sling. "Yes, yes, Draco," he said soothingly. "It was a stupid giraffe. Come on."

* * *

They entered the reptile exhibit next, the cool darkness of the reptile caves a familiar place for Harry, remembering the first time he'd come to the zoo with his Aunt and Uncle, and how he'd been able to speak to the large boa constrictor in its tank. He wasn't sure if he would be able to do it anymore; after killing the portion of Voldemort that had taken root inside of him, Harry had been too afraid to try and talk with snakes.

Draco looked around at the darkened exhibitions and knew at once that if Yaxley or the others were going to attack, it would be here, in the semi-darkness of the tanks. But at that moment, Harry squeezed his hand, and he knew that it would be okay. Harry was with him, and Draco could do anything as long as Harry was with him. Draco smiled. "This really is the house of the snake, isn't it?" he said casually, eyeing all the snakes in their various display tanks. "How charmingly Slytherin."

Harry laughed. "There're lizards and insects here too, you know."

"But the snakes are what the Muggles come to look at," Draco pointed out; nodding towards the groups of Muggles huddled around tanks displaying viper pits and rattlesnakes, ignoring the dark smoky shadows behind him.

Sighing in defeat, Harry dragged Draco to the same boa constrictor display that he'd been to before. In the tank was the same snake that he'd spoken to all those years ago, lying on his rock, for all purposes seeming to be asleep. Reading the small information square next to the tank, Harry saw that boa constrictors usually live twenty to thirty years in captivity, with rare accounts going up to forty years. It wasn't strange that after ten years, Harry had come back again to meet the very same snake.

"This is the first snake I talked to," he told Draco, placing a hand on the glass and looking fondly at the large reptile. "That time that my relatives took me here before I knew anything about magic or Hogwarts, I got a chance to speak with him."

Draco peered in at the unmoving snake. "Are you sure it's the same one?" he asked curiously, shoving thoughts of Yaxley to the back of his mind.

Harry nodded. "He's got the same markings around his eyes. And I'd recognize him anywhere. Ten years ago, I made the glass on the tank vanish, not on purpose. He got free and tried to escape, but since he's back here again, I guess he wasn't able to make it out."

Draco laughed. "The Muggles must've been scared out of their wits."

"You have no idea," Harry grinned. "My cousin actually fell into the tank when the glass disappeared, you know. And then I made the glass reappear again, and he was trapped inside for a good half hour until the zoo manager could get him out."

"_He was too fat to fit through the door they put me through, so they had to get him out through the panels on the top of the tank."_

Harry froze. Draco was still peering at the snake, but sensing that something was wrong, he looked up worriedly. "Harry?" he asked.

Harry shook his head and turned to the snake inside the tank, blinking in shock. "_Can you understand me?"_

"Harry, what are you doing?" Draco asked, starting to panic. "You're making weird sounds. Are you alright?" He darted a quick look around him. The Death Eaters, seeing that something was wrong, were slowly moving in. Draco edged closer to Harry, putting a hand on the man's shoulder. "Harry?"

Harry held up a hand and focused on the snake. Slowly, the snake opened his eyes and lifted its head, nodding. "_You asked me the same question ten years ago, human,"_ it hissed, its long pink tongue darting out to taste the air. "_And now we meet again, and again you ask me."_

Draco, seeing the snake's behavior, managed to figure out what was going on. "What's it saying?" he asked quietly. The shadows had stopped advancing.

"I asked him if he could understand me, and he responded by saying that I asked him the same question ten years ago," Harry whispered to Draco, before turning his attention back to the snake. The shadows had retreated again, and Draco almost laughed at Yaxley's almost palpable rage.

"_You have brought another human with you this time as well," _the snake said, darting his tongue out in Draco's direction. "_Are you going to trap this one in my tank, like you did with the other fat one?"_

Harry laughed. "He's asking if I want to trap you in his tank like I did with my cousin," he explained to Draco quickly. Draco raised his eyebrows and wrapped his arms around Harry's waist, so they were both looking down at the snake. He did it partially to gloat to Yaxley about his unwitting protector, and partially because he wanted to. Although he would never admit the second part.

"Tell him that I mean no harm," he said, still amazed at Harry's ability to speak Parseltongue. He'd only witnessed it once before, back in second year in Lockhart's Dueling Club. It wasn't all wizards who could communicate with snakes after all. It just enforced how special Harry really was.

Turning to the snake, Harry shook his head. _"No, this human's a friend," _he told it. "_I don't want to trap him. The previous fat one, he was an enemy."_

The snake nodded sagely, possessing the inborn instinct of all animals to recognize the difference between friend and foe. His tongue darting out again to taste the air, the snake stared at Draco's arms around Harry. "_Is this human your mate? He is holding you in a mating stance."_

Harry immediately flushed a bright red. "What's he saying?" Draco demanded, increasingly curious as to this impromptu conversation with the reptile.

"He's asking, um, well," Harry muttered, refusing to meet Draco's eyes. Draco watched as Harry's blush deepened, his fair skin turning a deep crimson. "He's asking whether you are my mate," Harry finished in a rush, his eyes closed shut.

Draco grinned and propped his chin up on Harry's shoulder. "Tell him no," he said into Harry's ear. Harry turned and looked at him, and Draco could've sworn he saw a flicker of disappointment in the man's eyes. Draco smiled and added, "But I'd like to be."

Harry blushed a light pink this time, embarrassment coloring his cheeks. Draco held Harry closer to him, satisfaction and happiness settling over him. Damn Yaxley and his followers, no way were they going to ruin his date with Harry. Harry turned back to the snake.

"_No, this human's not my mate," _he answered. "_But perhaps, someday we might be."_ Harry was embarrassed telling the snake all of that, but he silently berated himself. It was a snake, for Merlin's sake. It wasn't like the snake would go around spilling his secrets to all the people passing his tank.

The snake winked. "_If you don't hurry, then mating season would be over," _the snake cautioned, obviously not understanding the difference between boa constrictor mating and human mating. "_And your prospective mate may go and find a different human."_

Harry frowned, oddly disturbed by the notion of Draco going and finding somebody else. "_I'll remember your advice," _he said half-seriously. The snake had a point. Draco may have confessed to him, but there was still the chance that Draco would change his mind.

"_Well spoken, hatchling," _the snake said. Harry smiled as he noticed he had been promoted from 'human' to 'hatchling' in the snake's esteem. "_Now, before you leave, I would like to ask that you vanish this glass for me again. Perhaps this time, I'll really make it to Brazil."_

Harry laughed. "He's asking me to release him again so he can go to Brazil," he told Draco, who'd been puzzled as to where the conversation had headed.

Draco raised his eyebrows. "Why not? The snake deserves a chance."

Harry shook his head firmly. "No. I resolved not to do anything that would cause unnecessary trouble today. We can't let him out."

"It's your decision," Draco said, giving up.

"_I'm sorry, but we can't," _Harry told the snake. "_It'll get us in really big trouble if we do."_

The snake seemed to sigh. _"Very well, hatchling. Come visit me again sometime. It really does get boring around here, you know. The other snakes are all so petty, only thinking about who got the largest rat for lunch."_

Harry smiled. _"I will,_" he promised, leading Draco away from the tank.

"You seemed to enjoy yourself," Draco said as they walked towards the exit of the reptile exhibitions. "I never thought that you, the Savior, would have fun talking to a snake at a Muggle zoo."

Harry shrugged. "He's something of an old friend, I suppose," he said with a smile. Discreetly shaking his wand out of his sleeve and into his hand, making sure Draco didn't notice what he was doing, Harry glanced back one last time. "_Evanesco,"_ he whispered softly, watching the glass successfully disappear before quickly returning his wand to his sleeve. Walking out into the bright sunlight of the afternoon, Harry smiled brightly, leading Draco away from the reptile buildings. They were already far away by the time the screams began.

* * *

They went to the birds' section last. Brilliant plumages of every color in the rainbow were arrayed in fenced areas, trees and small ponds providing the birds with plenty of area to fly and roam. Harry pointed to a peacock, with its feathers in full display. "Look, Draco," he said excitedly, still holding Draco's hand. "That one looks like you!"

Draco looked at the bird in question and smirked. He couldn't see any strange shadows lurking around him anymore, and his mood had drastically improved. "Of course," he said proudly. "Peacocks are the kings of birds. The most beautiful and regal of its kind. Of course I would resemble it; I am of the noble house of Malfoy, after all."

Harry snorted. "Peacocks are also known for vanity and pettiness," he pointed out. "I think that resembles you pretty accurately as well."

Draco frowned and pulled Harry to him using their joined hands, so that Harry was wrapped in his arms, the shorter man's back pressed against his chest. "You think I'm vain and petty?" Draco hummed in Harry's ear, smirking as Harry blushed and looked around quickly to make sure they weren't attracting any undue attention by their position.

Making sure that nobody was staring at them oddly, Harry turned back to Draco. Shrugging, Harry turned his head so he could look Draco in the eye, their noses an inch apart. "Yes I do," he admitted with a grin. "I also think that you're cocky, stubborn, and proud. Good thing you have many other redeeming qualities, though, or else I'd think you were just a complete no-good git."

Draco lowered his head to Harry's shoulder, smiling. He had to force down the trickle of disappointment that threatened to rise. He'd hoped that maybe, just maybe, Harry might've thought something more about him. "Is that what you really think of me?" he asked softly. "Nothing else?"

Harry sighed and raised one arm, his fingers stroking through Draco's hair. Draco purred at the contact; he loved it when Harry touched his hair. "I also think you're the most beautiful man I've ever met," Harry said quietly, the words meant for none but Draco to hear. Draco nuzzled into Harry's shoulder, urging the other man to continue.

Harry absentmindedly twirled Draco's hair around his fingers, closing his eyes as Draco's nuzzling became impatient little kisses. "Are you that eager for me to continue complimenting you?" Harry asked exasperatedly. Draco didn't respond, only increased his kisses. Harry snorted. "And you say you aren't vain," he grumbled.

"I never said I wasn't," Draco said against Harry's skin, breathing in Harry's scent with each spoken word. "And yes, I do like it when you compliment me. You don't do it often enough, actually."

Harry laughed. "Really, Draco. How many compliments do you want before you're satisfied?"

Draco shrugged, tightening his hold on Harry and smiling when the man grumbled at his grip. "Say nice things to me, and then I'll let you go," Draco whispered playfully in Harry's ear.

Harry sighed, tugging lightly on Draco's hair. "You're such a child sometimes," he said reproachfully.

Draco raised his eyebrows and squeezed Harry to him, enjoying the feel of Harry's slight frame pressed up against his body. Harry's breath rushed out of him, and he squirmed in Draco's arms. "Draco, that's too tight!" he said, trying to pry Draco's fingers loose.

Draco didn't let go. "I told you that I'd let you go if you said nice things to me," he reminded. "Saying things like I'm such a child will just make me hold you tighter."

Harry snickered and turned around in Draco's arms, so they were standing face-to-face, Draco looking down at sparkling green eyes. "How about this?" Harry asked, winding his arms around Draco's neck and looking up at him pleadingly. "Will you let me go now?"

"Not a chance," Draco replied, but he did loosen his grip slightly. "But since I like this position much better than our previous one, I won't squeeze as tightly anymore."

Raising his eyebrows, Harry grinned. "So if you like what I do, then you'll let me go?"

"I'll think about it," Draco considered, smiling at Harry's mischievous expression. "But I'd prefer it if you compliment me instead."

Harry rolled his eyes. "You're gorgeous," he said simply, his hand still stroking through Draco's hair, making him hum in appreciation. "You're intelligent, charming and exceedingly stubborn."

Draco frowned. "I'm not sure that last one was a compliment," he remarked.

Harry grinned. "It wasn't."

Tightening his hold, Draco smiled. "Continue," he said graciously. Harry sucked in a breath at the arms firmly wound around his waist.

"When I first met you, I thought you were a complete git. You were mean, insulting, and haughty. I thought that I would never get along with a boy like you. You reminded me a bit of my horrible cousin at first, actually."

Draco's frown increased. He didn't really like the direction where this was going.

"We got into fights, we argued, we insulted each other. Neither of us were completely blameless back then; we each tried to get the upper hand all the time. But then the War put everything into perspective. It made me realize that perhaps, we weren't so different from each other after all. That was around the time when I started wanting to help you. To know more about you, to maybe save you."

Draco lowered his head so his forehead was pressed to Harry's. He knew what the next part of the story was going to be. "And then came sixth year," he whispered.

Harry nodded. "Sixth year," he agreed. Harry's hand slid from Draco's hair to his chest, where he fingered the approximate location of the thin white scar that crossed Draco's torso, a memento from a fight long ago.

"I'm so sorry," Harry said, his face shadowed with pain. "I'm so sorry, Draco."

Draco shushed the dark-haired man, rubbing soothing circles on his back. "It wasn't your fault," Draco said. "I threw the first curse. I probably deserved it, actually."

Harry shook his head. "I should never have done something like that. It was wrong. Utterly and irrevocably wrong. Draco, please. I know that this might be a little late, but I'm asking you now. Will you forgive me?"

Draco smoothed a tangle of black curls from Harry's face. "There's nothing to forgive," he said with a small smile. "I've never held a grudge against you for what you did. Never have I thought that you were at fault."

Harry smiled, such a gentle, soft expression that it took Draco's breath away. "Thank you, Draco," he said, his breath sweet against Draco's lips. "You always say the exact things that I want to hear."

Draco bowed his head. "That's what I'm here for, Harry. I love you, remember?" And he only had to force himself a tiny bit to say those words. His words rang with truth.

Harry laughed. "Yes. Of course."

Harry stepped away, and Draco blinked at the sudden loss of contact. "Harry?" he asked.

Harry was smiling wickedly. "You let me go, see?" he said, his hand still in Draco's. "I got out without having to compliment you anymore."

Draco snorted and pulled Harry to him once again, the other man only struggling a little bit before relaxing in his arms. "That was devious of you," he muttered into Harry's hair, breathing in Harry's soapy-pie scent. "It was cheating."

Harry's hands tangled again in Draco's hair, Draco groaning as Harry pulled lightly on the strands. "I'll take that as a compliment, seeing as it came from the Slytherin prince himself," Harry smirked.

Draco looked around them, wondering if it would be bad to kiss Harry right in the middle of the Muggle zoo. It was getting to late afternoon, the Muggle crowds thinning as everybody went back home. Harry noticed it as well, and sighed. "You hungry, Draco?" he asked, smiling up at him. "I think I'll make spaghetti tonight."

"As long as there's apple pie for dessert," Draco said hopefully, eyeing Harry carefully.

Harry smiled. "Anything for you, Draco."

Draco grinned as a warm knot of happiness settled in his chest, and closed his eyes as Harry Apparated them back home.

* * *

**Author's Note: **I am _so_ sorry that it took such a ridiculously long time to update. Like, seriously, _so really very sorry!_ Yeah. Well, hope you people like this chapter, and this is just a warning, but I will update at very _random, _very _inconsistent_ intervals from now on. It took me like, what, three months or something to get this chapter out? Well. I'm really sorry. *Drowning in guilt* Well, as an apology, here's a joke for everybody:

We formed a band called 999MB. We haven't gotten a gig yet.

Get it? I didn't at first, so here's a quick explanation:

MB = megabyte, gig = gigabyte

Yeah. I like lame jokes :P Anyways, as always, please review!


	7. Uncertain Heart

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any characters or settings mentioned in this story. This is a non-profit fanfiction, and all named characters and settings are the copyrighted property of J.K. Rowling.

* * *

"Draco, rise and shine! I'm taking a day off work since we're not doing much at the office anyways, so we can do whatever you want today!"

Draco blinked open his eyes and sleepily looked up, seeing Harry's face less than an inch above his own. "Harry?" he mumbled, rubbing his eyes. He stretched out both his arms, glad that he had regained use of his right one. Harry had helped him do the final checkup on his wound last night, and the gaping gash had healed nicely, now nothing more than a thin white line. Draco yawned and looked to his side.

Harry was sitting on the bed right beside him, his overlarge pajamas hanging off one shoulder, his hair all mussed up from sleep. He wasn't wearing his glasses for once, and his green eyes seemed overly bright without them, shining with excitement as Harry bounced up and down on the bed. Draco rolled over and smiled at Harry, remembering that he had told the man just yesterday morning not to bounce on him. Apparently, Harry had taken that as invitation to bounce on the bed.

"We have the whole day to ourselves," Harry continued, leaning forwards eagerly. "So what do you want to do? We can go to Diagon Alley, go to Hogsmeade, visit Ron and Hermione, anything!"

Draco groaned. "No, please, spare me from the Weasel and his girlfriend," he muttered, putting his hands over his eyes in mock horror. "It's bad enough that we're going to that Weasley gathering tomorrow for dinner."

Harry frowned at Draco's use of Ron's less-than-enviable nickname, but his entire face brightened when he realized what Draco had just said. "You've agreed to come?" he asked excitedly, tugging on Draco's arm. "You're really going to come? Really? That's great, Draco! We don't have to visit them today if you don't want to. We can do anything you want!"

Draco considered that for a moment, before he smirked and grabbed a handful of Harry's shirt, pulling the smaller man down. Harry lost his balance and fell on top of Draco with a muffled yelp.

"Draco! What're you doing?" Harry asked, frowning as he tried to get up. Draco didn't let him go.

"You said that we can do whatever _I _want, Harry," Draco purred, rolling them over so Harry was pinned underneath him. Draco relished in the full use of both his arms; he could do so much more now when he didn't have one of his arms immobile in that sling. "And I'm about to show you what _I _want to do." Draco delighted in Harry's panicked expression; the man was just too cute for his own good.

Harry squirmed as Draco assaulted him with his lips, and Draco smiled, tasting every inch of Harry he could reach. Nibbling on Harry's exposed shoulder, pulling his large pajama top down, Draco breathed in Harry's delicious scent, loving the breathless gasps that he heard coming from the other man.

"Draco, it's eight in the morning!" Harry said, trying to push Draco off of him. But Draco was bigger, and though Harry may have been the most powerful wizard alive, he couldn't lift an entire full grown man when said man was lying right on top of him.

Draco brushed Harry's hair away from his eyes, marveling at how green they seemed without their usual barrier of glass. Without his glasses, Harry looked almost… vulnerable. Innocent. Like a pure being, untainted by the darkness of the world. "You don't want to?" Draco asked softly, his hand idly stroking through Harry's soft curls, caressing Harry's face.

Harry blushed and looked away, and Draco noticed with surprise that even the man's shoulder turned a faint pink. Curious, Draco tugged Harry's shirt down even more, revealing a slender chest with finely toned muscles, a pert pink nipple showing as Draco pulled Harry's oversized shirt down. Draco chuckled when he saw that Harry's chest had also turned a faint pink from the blush coloring his face.

"Draco, what are you-" Harry began, trying to pull his shirt back up, but Draco wasn't having any of that. Smiling evilly, Draco kissed Harry quickly on his jawline before working his way down, leaving another small mark on Harry's collarbone. Harry whimpered as Draco slid his tongue down his chest, finally coming to the nipple and swirling his tongue slowly over it, tasting every inch of Harry's skin.

Harry groaned as Draco started sucking, his hands almost involuntarily winding around Draco's neck, his hands tangling in his hair. "Draco," he mumbled, his eyes squeezed shut, his face burning red. Draco smiled; he loved it when Harry was at his mercy like this. He loved it when Harry touched his hair, when Harry said his name. He loved everything about Harry.

"Draco, please," Harry whispered, voice rough with desire. Draco looked up and saw that Harry's eyes were closed tight, face red with embarrassment. "Please, don't do this."

Draco felt an indescribable tugging sensation in his chest, like he wanted to pull Harry to him and hold him forever, but knew he couldn't. "Harry, why?" Draco whispered, letting go of Harry's shirt, looking down at Harry's beloved face. His blush had faded to a light pink, and his hair was even messier than before. At that moment, Draco wanted nothing more than to take Harry as his, and only a paper-thin line of reason stopped him from doing as he wished.

Harry blinked open his eyes and looked up at Draco, his hands still in Draco's hair. Releasing one hand, Harry softly traced Draco's lips with his hand. Draco closed his eyes and leaned into Harry's touch, wanting more of it. "I'm taking advantage of you again," Harry said guiltily, biting his lip.

Draco's eyes flew open at Harry's words. _Harry_ thought that he was taking advantage of _him?_ Draco almost laughed at the irony, his stomach clamping with guilt and desire, mixing together. Again with Harry's bloody justice and sense of righteousness. It was infuriating and absolutely unnecessary, Draco thought darkly, scowling at the man lying underneath him. Harry was completely powerless right now, without his wand, and yet he still held such power over Draco.

How easy it would be, to just force himself on Harry right that moment, Draco thought. The Hero wouldn't be able to resist, not without his wand. Draco was bigger and physically stronger, and now that he had full use of both his arms, he could _make_ Harry accept him. He was already using the Hero for unwilling protection against Yaxley and his gang after all; why shouldn't he use the Hero for a bit of pleasure as well, regardless of whether it was willing or not?

Draco punched the pillow in frustration, narrowly missing Harry's face. As it was, Harry jumped at the sudden violence. "Draco?" he asked, trying to sit up, but Draco was still pinning him down. "Draco, are you alright? I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry I was taking advantage of you! I won't do it again!"

Draco laughed bitterly at Harry's words, words that only served to increase his own guilt. It burned his insides, contaminating him, dirtying him. He wasn't worthy of this pure, gentle creature. Draco had lied his way into Harry's home, into Harry's bed. It was unfair to Harry, who had done nothing to deserve such treatment, but Draco could see no way to stop. Harry was his everything, and if Harry found out the truth, Draco knew that he would fall apart.

"Harry," Draco groaned, finally getting off of Harry and letting the other man sit up, so they were facing each other on the bed. Harry was looking at him worriedly, with not a trace of anger in his eyes. Draco ran a hand through his white-blond hair, missing Harry's hands, missing Harry's warmth. "Why do you always reject me?"

Harry crawled closer, raising a hand hesitantly, but stopped when his fingers were an inch away from Draco's face. Harry's eyes shone with a mixture of anguish and desire, warring with each other in their emerald depths. "I'm sorry, Draco," he said again. "I just don't want to use you. Not for this."

Draco slumped down, defeated. His rage had passed, and now all he felt was that horrible tugging sensation in his chest, as if his heart was trying to break free of his body and run to the man sitting less than a foot away from him. It was a sharp ache, and Draco clutched his chest, trying to stop feeling the pain, trying to stop his heart from hurting.

Harry was immediately at his side, hands gently prying Draco's fingers loose from where he'd been tearing at his shirt. Harry's shirt, Draco remembered. He had no clothes of his own now, and everything he wore belonged to Harry. "Draco, what's wrong?" Harry asked, fingers gentle but firm as they released Draco's hold on his shirt. "What's the matter?"

Draco refused to meet Harry's eyes, afraid that Harry would see the guilt and shame there. It was burning him from the inside, and Draco didn't know how to stop it. He was in too deep; his lie had somehow gone out of control. Draco didn't know what to do anymore. Was he lying to Harry? Or had his life before been a lie? Truth and falsehood were a jumbled mess in Draco's mind, and he just couldn't disentangle them from each other anymore. His reason had left him, and all he was left with was confusion and anger.

"Draco," Harry whispered, tilting his chin up so Draco was forced to meet Harry's concerned gaze. "Please. Tell me what's wrong."

That was the one thing Draco could not do. Through all the lies and muddled truths crowding Draco's head, that one fact shone with sudden clarity. Harry must not be allowed to know the truth. Harry must never find out what he'd done.

"Harry," Draco rasped, his throat dry. "Harry."

Harry understood Draco's silent plea, and his arms wound around Draco, holding him close. Draco let his head fall on the Hero's shoulder, breathing in Harry's scent and clutching the man to him, his only anchor in the sea of deception that he'd brought upon himself. "I'm sorry," Draco whispered brokenly. He was apologizing for all he'd done to Harry, how he'd used him and how he'd lied. It was unforgivable, Draco knew, and yet he just _needed_ to say those words.

Harry stroked his hair, a small comfort that nonetheless seemed to warm Draco's entire being and fend off the onslaught of guilt that threatened to consume him. "You've nothing to apologize for," Harry said gently, rocking Draco slowly back and forth. Harry hadn't understood. Draco vaguely wondered if it was for better or for worse that Harry didn't seem to have a clue about how he was being manipulated. "It's my fault. You've done nothing wrong," the Hero shushed him.

_Oh how completely mistaken he was._

But Draco pushed aside those thoughts, and instead allowed himself to be comforted by the Savior of the Wizarding World. "I'm sorry Draco," Harry repeated, and Draco could feel Harry trembling in his arms. "I'm so sorry. It's all my fault. I promise I'll never do something like that again, okay? Please don't be mad."

Draco had to smile at that, though his face was buried in the crook of Harry's neck, so there was no way Harry could've seen the expression. Placing a gentle kiss on Harry's neck, Draco tightened his grip around Harry.

"Of course I'm not mad," he said softly, his voice muffled against Harry's skin. "I'll never be mad at you. I love you, remember?" Draco didn't care anymore whether it was the truth or a lie. Draco just knew that the creature in his arms deserved to be loved, and Draco would be damned before he ever stopped loving him.

Draco felt Harry smile, and it caused a warm feeling to settle in his stomach, fighting away his guilt. If Harry was happy, then everything else would be bearable. He had Harry in his arms, and that was enough. Harry's soft laughter resounded in Draco's ears, soothing him as he reveled in Harry's arms around him.

"Yes, of course," Harry murmured into his hair, Harry's breath tickling the back of Draco's neck. Draco sighed and buried his face once more against Harry's neck, the horrible tugging sensation in his heart now replaced with an almost ethereal happiness, so paper-thin Draco worried that it would shatter at any moment.

Harry chuckled. "I never took you for the type to like snuggling, Draco," he said lightly. "You struck me more as the personal space sort of guy."

Draco snorted, not letting go of Harry. "I do _not_ like snuggling," he sneered. "It's unseemly and completely Hufflepuff-ish. No Malfoy would _ever_ approve of something so _common_ as _snuggling._"

"Oh really now?" Harry asked, amusement in his voice. "Then what, might I ask, oh glorious and high-standing Draco Malfoy, are you doing right now?"

Draco felt his face heat up, and thanked Merlin that his face was hidden in the crook of Harry's neck. "I'm enjoying a moment of serenity," Draco said, blurting the first excuse that came to mind.

Harry snickered. "This is what you call serenity?" he asked incredulously, poking Draco in the back teasingly. "Snuggling up to somebody is what you think is serene?"

Draco growled and pushed Harry down, so they were lying together on top of the tangled bed sheets, Draco's face still buried in Harry's neck. "I am _not_ snuggling," he said again, denying it fiercely. "And it's not with just anybody, you know. It's only with you."

Draco looked up in time to see the brilliant smile that crossed Harry's face. Draco smirked. "You like that, don't you? You like it when I say things like that to you?"

Harry blushed immediately, looking away again. "Of course not," he said unconvincingly, peeking back at Draco from underneath lowered lashes, before quickly looking in the other direction. Draco smiled at how utterly adorable Harry was being. The man's face was red, his green eyes glittering with embarrassment and a fierce pride.

"Well, if you don't like it, then I guess I won't say things like that anymore," Draco said offhandedly, watching Harry carefully for his reaction.

Harry turned around so fast Draco worried that he might have hurt himself. Harry's eyes looked up at him, Harry's hand clutching his shirt. "No-" he began immediately, before shutting his mouth with a snap, realizing too late that he'd walked straight into a trap. Draco grinned victoriously down at Harry.

"So you _do _like it," Draco said, shifting slightly so Harry was nearly laying on his chest, his arm as Harry's makeshift pillow. Harry didn't seem to mind the new position; instead, he cuddled closer, his entire body pressed up against Draco's side.

Harry was blushing again and he didn't answer, his eyes fixed on the spot where his fingers traced small circles on Draco's chest. Draco had to stifle a groan; Harry was driving him _crazy_ with all his little touches and his scent. Draco had to force himself not to move, but he did throw the blanket over them both, so Harry would be less likely to notice Draco's growing problem.

"Maybe a little bit," Harry finally admitted, not looking at Draco. "But you don't have to say it. I shouldn't be asking you to do anything like that," he added, blinking up uncertainly at Draco, his eyes slightly unfocused without his glasses. Draco had to resist the urge to just kiss Harry senseless right there.

Instead, Draco smiled, satisfying himself with wrapping his arms more firmly around Harry and brushing his lips against Harry's forehead, tracing the famous scar. Harry closed his eyes and sighed in pleasure at the gentle contact.

"I would never do this with anybody else," Draco whispered against the familiar lightning bolt, the scar that every wizard in the world was familiar with. "You're the only one, Harry. You'll always be the only one."

Harry smiled, his eyes still closed, and relaxed into Draco's embrace. "Now you're just trying to," Harry yawned softly, cuddling closer to Draco under the sheets. "You're just trying to make me forget about not taking advantage of you," Harry finished sleepily.

Draco continued to trace Harry's scar with his lips, loving it when Harry pressed himself up against his body. "Is that such a bad thing?" Draco asked. "What if I want you to take advantage of me?"

Harry laughed. "I never thought the day would come when I heard you say those words," he said quietly.

Draco chuckled. "I told you, Harry. You're the only one I'll ever say it to."

Harry smiled happily. "I really do like it when you say that to me," he admitted, his voice slurred with oncoming sleep. "You're really amazing, you know that, Draco? You always say exactly what I want to hear."

An intense surge of protectiveness for the delicate man before him welled up in Draco, and he knew with utter certainty he would never hurt Harry. He would never let Yaxley and his goons lay a finger on Harry, not while he lived to stop them. For Harry, Draco almost felt as if he could take on the world, and win.

"Of course I'm amazing, what else could you expect?" Draco agreed at once. Harry laughed. "Besides, if I'm not here, who else will you drag along to your Muggle zoos, or cook all that excellent food for? Admit it, Harry," he joked, "You need me."

"Yes," Harry said, his voice completely serious. Draco blinked in surprise; he hadn't expected Harry to actually take his words seriously. "You're right, Draco. What would I do without you?"

Draco smiled, slightly guilty once again for deceiving Harry. He sighed; it seemed he would be perpetually wracked with guilt now, since that ugly dark feeling of having lied to Harry would never go away. "I don't know," Draco replied lightly, hugging Harry to him to stop the wave of regret for having tricked him. "You'd just go back to the way you lived before I came along and ruined your life, I suppose."

Harry shook his head, frowning, his eyes still closed. "No, Draco. You didn't ruin my life. You're probably the best thing that's ever happened to me."

Again, Harry's words erased all thought from Draco's mind. It seemed that Harry had an uncanny ability to stop Draco's thought processes at will. All he could hear was Harry's voice repeating those words, over and over. Harry had said that he was the best thing that had ever happened to him. It was more than Draco had ever expected to get, more than he ever deserved.

"I love you, Harry," Draco said, realizing with a slight jolt that he was truly meaning it for the first time. He would never have thought it'd be possible before, but he had fallen in love with Harry Potter. He realized that now, after so many attempts to deny it and ignore it. He'd fallen in love with Harry _bloody _Potter. Hero and Savior of the Wizarding World, the one idol that wizards and witches around the globe all looked up to. The most powerful wizard in existence, the one who had defeated the Dark Lord with nothing but a simple trick of fate and a disarming spell. Draco didn't know whether to laugh with joy or curse himself for falling for the one person who he could never have.

Harry smiled sleepily, his breathing evening out. "Yes, of course," he said, falling asleep in Draco's arms. Draco watched as Harry sighed and snuggled closer to him in sleep, and Draco wondered how he ever could've thought that he hated Harry Potter. Somebody so delicate, so kind, so infuriatingly just. Draco closed his eyes as well, surrounded by Harry's unique scent, smiling as Harry's hands curled over his chest, resting right above his heart. Bloody Hero. For some reason, Harry seemed to have effortlessly torn down Draco's sense and reason, with nothing but a handful of kisses and a few whispered words.

Draco smiled self-deprecatingly, his hand curling around Harry's waist. His life had never been easy, after all. It was only natural that he would fall in love with the only person he shouldn't.

As Draco fell asleep, thoughts of Yaxley and his men were far from his mind. The only thing that he could think of, as he fell asleep with the Hero of the Wizarding World in his arms, was how he wanted that moment to last forever, and how lucky he was that Harry was with _him_. Draco Malfoy had, completely and irrevocably, fallen in love with Harry Potter.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Yeah. Really short chapter, but I DID post it on time. Remember when I said that chapter updates would be inconsistent? Well, at least I'm trying to keep it consistent, right? This chapter with lots of fluff and not a whole lot of plot. Except at the end. That end part's important. Sort of, I guess. Not really, though, since it had to happen anyways… Sorry if it turned out sort of sappy. I was half asleep while I wrote this :P


	8. The Plan

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any characters or settings mentioned in this story. This is a non-profit fanfiction, and all named characters and settings are the copyrighted property of J.K. Rowling.

* * *

"This isn't good. Malfoy has Potter twirled around his little finger, and we can't make our move so long as the Hero's protecting him."

"Shut up, Rookwood."

"Yeah, shut up Rookwood. We don't need you to point out the obvious, thank you very much."

"How about _you_ shut up, Carrows? Nobody wants to hear your dimwitted talk anyways."

"Rookwood, Alecto, and Amycus! Will you _stop it?_ All your bickering is getting on my nerves!"

"Who cares about you, Dolohov?"

"Yeah, who cares about you? You haven't done anything but complain since we started Malfoy hunting."

"Carrows, I swear, one more word out of you two and I'll curse the both of you faster than you can scream for mommy."

"Let's see you try that, Dolohov."

"Yeah. Let's see you try that. You can't take us. We're _way_ stronger than you."

"_Silence."_

"… Yes Yaxley."

"Instead of bickering, use those empty heads of yours for once and _think_. Potter is untouchable right now, but Malfoy isn't. We need to get him. For our Lord, we will get revenge. And when the Dark Lord rises once more, he will reward us with power and riches beyond our wildest dreams. Do you _understand?"_

"Yes, Yaxley."

"Good, so _shut up and focus. _It seems Potter isn't willingly protecting Malfoy, so we must assume that Malfoy has told Potter some lie to keep him close. Any ideas what it could be?"

"… Our sources show that Malfoy may be pretending to be in love with Potter."

"Yeah. Our sources are definitely pointing in that direction."

"Shut _up,_ Carrows. Why the hell would Malfoy pretend to be in love with Potter? Moreover, why would Potter ever believe him? Their relationship's been nothing but rocky in the past."

"_Dolohov. _The Carrows point out an interesting fact, so _you_ shut up."

"Forgive me, Yaxley."

"Continue."

"We saw them… _kissing_ yesterday in that Muggle zoo. Malfoy seemed to be initiating most of it, while Potter sort of went along."

"Yeah. Malfoy's definitely telling Potter that he's in love with him, so Potter will keep him around."

"… It's possible. Potter's been famous for his notions on how love conquers all, and Potter's already been established as gay. Malfoy really might have convinced Potter that he loves him."

"Thank you, Rookwood. You've finally said something useful, for once."

"Yeah. Usually all you do is snap at us and bitch all the time like Dolohov."

"Hey, I do _not_ bitch all the time!"

"Yeah you do, Dolohov. You're doing it right now."

"Yeah. Right now."

"I agree with Alecto and Amycus. Dolohov, you're turning slightly red. Are you alright?"

"I do _not_ bitch-"

"_Enough."_

"… Sorry Yaxley."

"Rookwood brings up a good point. It explains how Malfoy's got Potter suddenly protecting him now, in any case. We should use this to our advantage."

"How do we do that, Yaxley?"

"Yeah. How do we do that?"

"Just think. Potter, unsuspecting and dimwitted as he is, thinks that Malfoy is in love with him, and obviously doesn't doubt the story. Malfoy, on the other hand, is lying through his teeth to keep Potter close. What happens when something reveals the truth to Potter? Why, Potter would be willing to hand Malfoy to us on a silver platter if that happens."

"Why would he do that, Yaxley?"

"Yeah. Why would Potter do that?"

"_Think,_ you imbeciles, _think! _If Potter suddenly finds out that Malfoy's been lying to him all this time, he'll be enraged! His pride would be severely wounded, and in the best scenario, he'll be _heartbroken!_ Poor Potter, sobbing all alone, finding out that the person he fell in love with doesn't really love him back after all. What do you think Potter will do then?"

"Kill Malfoy?"

"… Dolohov, I would prefer it if you just never offered your opinions again."

"Why? What did I say?"

"Dolohov, shut up. Yaxley just told you to stop offering opinions."

"Yeah, Dolohov. Nobody wants to listen to you anyways."

"Okay, okay. Yaxley's starting to look angry again, guys."

"Rookwood, you're a pussy."

"Yeah. You're too afraid of Yaxley. It's not like he's going to kill us."

"_Carrows."_

"… Sorry Yaxley."

"_Focus._ If Potter found out that the person he fell in love with has been lying to him all along, what will he do? Dolohov, don't answer."

"He'll yell and scream?"

"Yeah. He'll yell and scream and cry like a baby. Poor baby Potter."

"No, Carrows. Wrong answer. Rookwood, you have any ideas?"

"Uh, um, well, if Potter found out that Malfoy has been lying to him then… um, he'd tell him to go away and never come back? And _then_ he'd yell and scream and cry like a baby?"

"That's just what Amycus said, Rookwood."

"Yeah. That's what I just said, Rookwood. That's stealing my ideas. I should curse you for that."

"Try it, I dare you. Dolohov, you're on my side, right?"

"You told me not to give my opinions, so I'm staying out of this."

"_Focus!"_

"… Sorry Yaxley."

"Rookwood is right. Potter would tell Malfoy to get out of his sight, to get out of his house. And then what happens?"

"Potter yells and screams and cries like a baby?"

"… Dolohov, I told you not to contribute your ideas anymore."

"Oh, I know! Malfoy will be out of Potter's protection, and that means we get open season on Malfoy hunting!"

"Yeah! Open season!"

"Very good, Alecto, Amycus. Now, who knows how we can get Potter to realize that Malfoy's lying to him?"

"We tell him?"

"Dolohov, I told you, do _not_ contribute. Just shut up and go watch the new recruits. I've had enough of you."

"… Yes Yaxley."

"… Thank god _he's_ gone. He's been moaning and bitching all this time. Really, he shouldn't even be called a proper Death Eater. He gives us all a bad name."

"Rookwood, shut up before I tell you to go watch the recruits with Dolohov."

"Yes Yaxley."

"Back to business. How to get Potter to realize Malfoy's lying to him."

"We have to reveal Malfoy's lie. It's gonna be a bitch though. Malfoys were always lying ferrets, the whole lot of them. Never could wring the truth out of them, unless they were at wandpoint with a nasty curse at the end of it."

"Yeah. Wandpoint with a nasty curse at the end of it."

"And you gang up on _me_ for pointing out the obvious."

"Shut up, Rookwood."

"Yeah. Shut up Rookwood. We're trying to have a productive conversation here, and you're ruining it."

"Hey, _you two _are the ones who keep on arguing! Besides, the both of you basically say the same things! _You're _the ones being unproductive!"

"Look, Yaxley's getting mad again. See what you're doing Rookwood? You're making Yaxley mad again."

"Yeah Rookwood. You're making Yaxley mad again."

"No, _you're_ making Yaxley mad. _I'm _just talking, but _you two _are the ones starting all the arguments!"

"Shut up, Rookwood. You don't know what you're talking about. You should go watch the new recruits like Dolohov. Maybe you'll gain some brain cells that way."

"Yeah. Gain some brain cells."

"_Why you two little-"_

"_Silence!"_

"… Sorry Yaxley."

"Now, it's obvious that _we_ can't tell Potter that Malfoy's lying to him. Potter would arrest us on the spot. No. But we _can_ pretend to be somebody else. Somebody who knows Malfoy _very_ well."

"Like who?"

"Yeah. Like who, Yaxley?"

"_Idiots._ Malfoy's been known to have been particularly close to a certain Pansy Parkinson during his schooling years. If we send a letter to him from his old friend, and Potter just _accidentally_ reads it, then we can tell Potter about Malfoy's deception."

"That's a really good idea, Yaxley."

"Yeah. You're so smart, Yaxley."

"Why thank you, Carrows. I am quite brilliant, aren't I?"

"Hey, I think we're getting a little off topic here…"

"_Rookwood._ I am the leader of this operation, and it is up to _me_ to decide if we're getting off topic or not, _understand?"_

"… Sorry Yaxley…"

"But wait, Yaxley, aren't the Parkinsons supposed to be in hiding, out of contact from the world? Why would Malfoy's friend suddenly mail him out of nowhere?"

"Yeah. Why would she do that?"

"Carrows, you're missing the bigger picture here. Once Potter finds out that he's being tricked, he's not going to spare the time to think about where the bloody letter came from."

"… But won't Malfoy tell him?"

"Rookwood, _you're_ missing the bigger picture as well. Malfoy will be put under pressure, and he'll crack, just like he's done in the past. He'll fess up, and Potter will have him out of his house, right into our hands. Nobody's gonna _care_ whether the bloody letter's really from Parkinson or not."

"… Right, Yaxley."

"Now. Who'll forge the letter?"

"I can't write."

"Yeah. Alecto can't write. I can't either."

"Rookwood?"

"… Well, I guess I'll have to do it, then. But you'll have to tell me what to write."

"Wait a second, Yaxley. Are we going to send this out now?"

"Yeah. Are we going to send it out now?"

"What are you blathering on about now, Carrows? Of course we're going to send it out now. You want to waste even more time? Malfoy's been evading us for far too long now. Besides, the new recruits are getting restless. They want blood."

"I don't know, Yaxley. It just seems that maybe we can give Malfoy a little time. Like, so when Potter finds out about Malfoy's deception, he'll be even more angry than he would be right now."

"Yeah. So Potter will be even more angry than he will be right now."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, our sources show that Potter seems like he's actually falling for Malfoy, even though Malfoy's lying."

"Yeah. Our sources definitely show that."

"So _what_? What do we care whether Potter falls for Malfoy or not? It's not like we're going to be supporting their relationship or anything. We're _Death Eaters_, for Merlin's sake! We exist to serve the Dark Lord! We're not bloody matchmakers that worry and fiddle our thumbs when our greatest enemy is apparently falling for the one we're supposed to be _killing_! This is just a waste of time."

"Shut up Rookwood. Continue, Carrows. Ignore Rookwood's idiotic mutterings."

"Well, I say, let's wait for a while, so Potter actually _will_ fall for Malfoy. Then, when we reveal Malfoy's trick, Potter will be even angrier, right? Malfoy will be kicked out, and Potter will be like, weakened, because he'll be so heartbroken. So we get Malfoy killed and Potter is weakened all in one shot. It's sorta like what those Muggles call 'killing two stones with a bird.'"

"Yeah. Killing two stones with a bird. We'll get the upper hand, and it'll just make it easier to get rid of Potter after we kill Malfoy."

"Idiots. It's killing two birds with one stone, not killing two stones with a bird."

"Shut up Rookwood."

"Yeah. Nobody cares about Muggle sayings anyways."

"What? But it was _you two_ who first said it! I was just correcting you!"

"Are you saying that you're smarter than us, Rookwood?"

"Yeah, birdbrain. You saying you're smarter than us?"

"You two couldn't even get a Muggle saying right! Of _course_ I'm smarter than you!"

"Say that again, Rookwood, with my wand down your throat."

"Yeah, Rookwood. Say that again with Alecto's wand down your throat."

"_Shut it!"_

"… Yes, Yaxley."

"Alecto and Amycus are right."

"_What? _Yaxley, you can't _honestly_ be agreeing with these two morons?"

"Shut up Rookwood."

"Yeah. Shut up, Rookwood."

"The Carrows are correct for once. Shut up, Rookwood, and listen to them. They bring up a good idea. But we can't afford to delay. The new recruits want blood, and they're going to run rampant if we don't give it to them. No matter what, we must maintain control."

"… So are we going to wait or not?"

"Yeah. Are we going to wait or not?"

"Well, Yaxley? It's your decision. You're the boss here."

"… Two days. That's all I'm giving them. Two days, and then we'll make our move."

"Okay, Yaxley. Two days. I'm sure Potter can fall for Malfoy in two days."

"Yeah. Malfoy's such a charmer, Potter's sure to fall for him."

"How would you two know? It's not like either of _you_ have ever been in love."

"Shut up, Rookwood. It's not like you know any better."

"Yeah, shut up Rookwood. We heard your wife ran out on you, so you can't talk about love."

"My wife left me due to a mutual agreement! She did not _run out_ on me!"

"Sure. Keep telling yourself that, Rookwood."

"Yeah. Keep on believing that, Rookwood."

"You're patronizing me!"

"Wow. You actually seem to have developed a functioning brain."

"Yeah. Finally."

"Say that again, Carrows! I dare you!"

"Oh you're _on,_ Rookwood. I've never liked you from the beginning."

"Yeah. Me neither, Rookwood. How's it feel to be hated?"

"I'm gonna get you two! _Cruc-"_

"_SILENCE!"_

* * *

**Author's Note: **Yeah, I know this chapter doesn't really have anything in it (it's only just conversation) but it's important, and I had to put it in somewhere. So now there's a time limit. I'm really sorry that this chapter is so short, but a lot's been going on. And I _did_ say that the updates were going to be inconsistent from now on... Oh, and to Demonic Hope: I really liked your idea. Thanks. I'll probably be putting it in the next chapter (once I get around to writing it) so know that I got the idea from you. :P


	9. Quidditch

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any characters or settings mentioned in this story. This is a non-profit fanfiction, and all named characters and settings are the copyrighted property of J.K. Rowling.

* * *

Draco woke up feeling better than he'd had for longer than he could remember. Without opening his eyes, Draco smiled to himself, perfectly content. He felt as if he was a new man. Well, he felt like he wasn't the same man he'd been that morning, at least. Stretching languidly, Draco relished the afternoon sunlight that he could feel spread over his body from the wide windows in his room. Reaching his arms out, Draco hummed as he tried to feel for Harry's warm form next to him on the bed, wanting to pull the man close and snuggle up to him for a while before they finally had to get out of bed.

Draco frowned and shook his head. No. Pulling Harry close was _not _the same as snuggling. Malfoys didn't _snuggle, _after all, no matter how Harry had doubted his assertions before. He wasn't trying to _snuggle_ with Harry; he was just…

With a snort, Draco tossed aside his own personal objections to the very real fact that he enjoyed snuggling up to Harry. So what if it _was _snuggling? The other man was just so warm and delicious-smelling that Draco really couldn't help it. With a sigh, Draco decided that he would just allow himself this one leniency; who cared if he enjoyed snuggling up to Harry? It wasn't like his parents were there any longer to remind him that Malfoys didn't perform such inelegant displays of affection.

Draco's eyes fluttered open, however, when his reaching hands grasped only cold sheets and empty space. Sitting up quickly, Draco looked around his chamber, and when the dark-haired Hero he was looking for was nowhere in sight, Draco frowned and padded out of his room, clothed in nothing more than his sleeping pants. "Harry?" he called softly, wondering if the Hero was in the bathroom, or perhaps had gone back to his own room.

The smell of sizzling bacon and fried eggs that was wafting around the hall, however, reassured Draco that Harry hadn't simply left him when he'd been sleeping. Grinning as he realized how hungry he was, Draco dashed back to his room and threw on some of the clothes in his closet, quickly brushing his teeth and making sure his hair was perfect before jumping down the stairs. Almost barreling through the kitchen doors, Draco didn't even consider how unseemly his actions must have been as he went directly up to Harry, who was bustling about the stove, and swept him up into a sloppy kiss.

When they broke apart, Draco was grinning widely and Harry was smiling a little, though his brilliant green eyes were fuzzy with confusion at the sudden attack. "Good morning," Draco said happily, walking around the counter to sit at the minibar, watching Harry turn his attention back to his neglected eggs.

"More like afternoon, Draco," Harry snorted. "And what's got you so cheerful? You're not usually so bright after having just woken up."

Draco shrugged, unable to explain this sudden _lightness_ that he felt. He knew it had something to do with Harry, and about his realization right before he'd fallen asleep with the Hero tucked in his arms, but he had no idea what it was. He just felt so _free,_ like he could leap up and fly away to anywhere he wanted, as long as Harry was with him.

"Maybe I just had a good nap," Draco offered, giving Harry a wink. Harry rolled his eyes and served them both breakfast; which was absolutely wonderful, as usual. Draco was beginning to realize that there was very little Harry _couldn't_ cook, and apparently everything that the Hero made was out-of-the-world fantastic.

When Harry had cleaned the dishes and put them away, Draco watching the entire time, Sabor suddenly came tapping at the kitchen window. Draco watched as Harry wandlessly opened the window with a wave of his hand, letting the midnight black owl flutter in to land by the spot where Draco was sitting.

"Get that for me, will you, Draco?" Harry said over his shoulder as he turned to put the last of the dishes away into the cupboard over the sinks.

Draco stretched out his hand to the owl, but it suddenly screeched and aimed a vicious peck at his fingers, Draco barely managing to retract his hand in time to avoid being jabbed by the sharp beak. "Hey!" Draco yelped, leaning away from the owl's flapping wings.

"He's a friend, Sabor," Harry said from the other side of the kitchen without even turning to look around. "Treat him nice, now. Or else no more owl treats for you until you learn to behave."

Draco watched with poorly disguised fascination and amusement as the owl seemed to really understand Harry's words, dropping its head slightly and ruffling its feathers in a way that Draco could only describe as abashed. Holding out the leg with the letter attached forlornly, the owl hooted softly at him and hopped a few inches closer.

Stretching out his fingers again, fully prepared to draw them back in case of another display of pecking, Draco managed to extricate the letter from the owl's talons with all his appendages intact. Smiling at the owl, Draco attempted to pet its feathers, but the bird just gave him one condescending glance before fluttering away to land on Harry's shoulder.

Draco frowned, trying not to be bothered by the fact that a mere _bird_ had just looked at him like _he_ was the inferior one.

Harry turned around, finally, mumbling to the bird and stroking its feathers. Draco narrowed his eyes at the owl, noting exactly how smug the bird looked as it sat on the Savior's shoulder. Draco silently swore he'd get that blasted owl one day; that was _his_ Harry's shoulder it was sitting on, and he wouldn't allow such an obnoxious looking bird to just get away with everything it did just because said bird belonged to the Hero of the Wizarding World.

"So, what does the letter say?"

Draco blinked, his attention pulled away from contemplating all the best ways to cook owl meat to Harry, who was leaning over the counter and trying to peer at the letter Draco still held in his hands. Draco was brought uncomfortably close to the owl still perched upon Harry's shoulder, and he and the bird engaged in a furious silent stare-down while Harry tried to discern what the letter was supposed to be about.

"Draco?" Harry asked, looking up with a frown when Draco didn't respond.

Draco shook his head and smiled at Harry, opening the letter with quick, practiced movements. Unfolding the sheet of parchment within, Draco held it out so both he and Harry could read it at the same time, trying to shoo the bloody owl off of Harry's shoulder with his other hand without the other wizard noticing.

Unfortunately, aside from being a bloody obnoxious bird, it was also infuriatingly obstinate. It stayed on Harry's shoulder no matter how Draco waved his hand at it, and it just continued to stare at him with that superior look in its dark golden eyes. Being so preoccupied with the owl, Draco didn't notice the deep frown that passed over Harry's face as he read the letter.

Finding that his efforts to get the bird off Harry's shoulders were proving to be futile, Draco decided at that moment that he severely disliked the owl that was trying to take his Harry away from him.

"Draco, what on earth are you doing?"

Draco dropped his hand immediately, turning to see Harry gazing at him with incredulous amusement. He'd been in the middle of actually trying to _shove_ the bird off of Harry's shoulder, which hadn't worked at all, since it had caused the bird to tighten its grip on the man's shoulder, and had made Harry turn around to see the reason for the intensified grip.

"Uh, there was a, um, crumpled feather on the owl," Draco said lamely, wondering where all his legendary lying skills had disappeared off to in the face of Harry's innocent, questioning gaze. For some reason, Draco was finding it increasingly hard lately to lie directly to the Hero's face. Draco loved Harry, yes, but he had also loved his parents, and he had lied directly to his parents numerous times before. But to the unsuspecting Hero, Draco just… _couldn't._ Draco almost burst out in laughter; here he was, living in the biggest lie he'd ever created, and he couldn't even seem to make up one little, tiny excuse as to why he'd been flapping his arms at a bloody _owl_.

"Oh really?" Harry asked with raised eyebrows, turning to look at the completely smooth feathers on the dark bird. Sabor preened just then, as if to rub Draco's lie back into his face.

"Yeah," Draco said, his mind scrambling for something, _anything._ "But I managed to get it off, so everything's fine now."

Harry turned quizzical eyes on him again, unable to hide the little smile playing around his lips. "If you say so," Harry said mildly, turning back to the letter. "So what do you think, Draco?" he asked, gesturing to the short note.

Draco looked blankly up at him. "Huh?" he asked lamely.

Harry sighed and leaned in so that his eyes were just inches away from Draco's own, giving Draco no choice but to stare into those emerald depths. "Is Sabor bothering you, Draco?" Harry asked with quiet mirth, his voice ringing with suppressed laughter.

Draco couldn't lie, not with Harry looking directly into his eyes, the Hero's breath sweet against his lips. "He's clinging onto you," Draco whined, not caring if he sounded like a petulant child.

Harry's eyes widened and he clapped a hand to his mouth, but he couldn't quite stifle the laughter that came bubbling up. Draco pouted, crossing his arms and glowering at the owl, since he couldn't quite manage to glower at Harry.

"Plus, he's looking at me with that _smug_ expression on his face. He's rubbing it in that he gets to sit on your shoulder while I can't even touch you from where I'm sitting over here," Draco added, since he was whining about it anyways. "It's not fair. I swear; that owl's got something against me. He's trying to take you away from me."

"I understood why me talking with Ginny before would've made you jealous, but an _owl,_ Draco?" Harry asked, letting his laugh out along with the words. Hearing Harry's laugh, so free and unrestrained, Draco felt his lips twitch upwards in response, but he was supposed to be pouting, so he just forced them back down again. "Do you _really_ think that I'd be so depraved as to be turned on by my own _owl?"_

Draco huffed, realizing how completely irrational his actions had been. However, that didn't make him any less irked with how the owl was just _sitting there_ on his Harry's shoulder like Harry belonged to _it, _instead of Draco. "I'm not jealous," Draco muttered defensively, but Harry just rolled his eyes.

"Sabor's been with me for three years now, ever since Hedwig died. He usually sits on my shoulder, and I don't mind it. Really, Draco. It's not like I'm going to leave you alone by suddenly falling in love with my _owl_ just because he's sitting on my shoulder."

Draco's ears perked up at that. "Is that an ambiguous hint that you've fallen in love with _me_?" he asked, brightening up again immediately. He really didn't know what the hell was wrong with him today; ever since he finally admitted to himself that he loved this precious man in front of him, his emotions had been all over the place. Draco frowned, trying to get himself back under control.

Harry tilted his head to consider it, and Draco felt joy just at the fact that Harry hadn't refused right away. That meant he had some chance, right? It meant that Harry was really thinking about him in that way?

"We'll see," Harry finally said, and Draco couldn't even find it in himself to be disappointed. He'd just barged in on Harry's life, after all, and it was more than he ever expected that the Hero just _might_ love him back. Draco had spent most of his childhood always greedy for the things he _didn't_ have, but now, after the trials of the War and spending so much time with Harry, he was beginning to be thankful for those things that he _did._

"So anyways," Harry continued casually, letting Sabor flutter back out the window after giving him a couple of owl treats, just so Draco was no longer eyeing the bird with narrowed eyes, "What do you think about the note?"

Draco hastily turned his attention back to the letter, reading it quickly while Harry watched him with an unreadable expression, much like the look Harry had worn when Draco had first seen him again in Diagon Alley, back when he'd still been lying to the man and pursued by Yaxley and the rest.

_Harry_, it said on the top of the page, in an unfamiliar scrawl that Draco didn't recognize. It wasn't Harry's own messy writing, nor was it Granger's neat print.

_Williamson, Garrett, Stevens, Kim, and Anders and I were thinking of going out for a game of Quidditch, since our case isn't going anywhere. You should come along. Bring Malfoy, too. We should be able to get some progress on our case if we play that round of Quidditch, if you know what I mean, eh? Clear our minds with the fresh country air and all that stuff, out alone in the countryside with no distractions around us. I'll be waiting with the boys. You know the place. Be there in ten._

_R_

Draco looked up in time to see some emotion flit across Harry's face, but it was gone in the next instant, hidden deep beneath those green eyes, so fast that Draco didn't even know if it had been there at all. At least, he knew who the sender of the letter seemed to be; Ronald Weasley. Nobody else would dare talk so disrespectfully to Harry, and nobody else would by so thick as to think that _Quidditch_ of all things would help with an _Auror's _case.

But it was a chance to build a relationship with a part of the Golden Trio, and since Draco had already realized he was in love with the blasted leader of the Trio anyways, he might as well get to know the two sidekicks so they wouldn't be at each other's throats all the time. He didn't know when this new, thoughtful side of him had come up, but hey, as long as Harry was happy, Draco knew he would be fine.

And making friends with Harry's little buddies would definitely make Harry happy, so Draco just had to grin and bear it. Besides, Draco knew that if he wanted Harry to love him back, the first step was to actually get along with those that Harry was close to and associated with. How better to make Harry fall in love with him than to be accepted by the Hero's surrogate family?

Draco smirked, knowing he looked pure evil with the expression on his face. As that dreadful Muggle saying went, all's fair in love and war. The War was over, and now all that was left was worming his way into the Hero's heart using whatever underhanded and despicable means necessary, which included currying favor with Harry's friends and other methods.

Of course, Draco had a whole stock of underhanded and despicable means in his completely _massive _inventory, and he had a wide selection of what those _other methods_ might involve.

Draco opened his mouth and said, "I think we should go," at the very same moment that Harry, frowning, opened his own mouth and said the complete opposite.

There was a moment of silence as both of them tried to process the words of the other.

"Wait, you said that you thought we _should_ go?" Harry was the first one to exclaim.

"Why did you say that we _shouldn't?"_ Draco shot back. "Aren't these your friends? Although admittedly, the only one I know is Weasley, but these other people must be acquaintances at least, right?"

Harry shook his head, dismissing the comment with a wave of his hand. "Fellow Aurors at work," he said as a quick explanation, before rounding on Draco again. "But why would you _want_ to go? I thought you didn't like Ron? And why on earth would you agree to play with him and a bunch of strangers?"

Draco frowned; Harry wasn't acting like himself, he could tell that much. He knew Harry would usually have been delighted to go out and fly with his friends, maybe engage in some friendly competition. Draco didn't understand why the Hero was suddenly so against the idea.

"Why don't _you_ want to go?" Draco asked, taking a different approach and asking gently, instead of with the frustration he was feeling. He'd finally decided that he'd take the initiative to try and make peace with the Weasel, and Harry seemed to be completely against it.

Harry looked away then, backing a couple of steps back. "I didn't think that _you'd_ want to go," Harry said quietly.

Draco sighed and stepped forward, wrapping his arms around Harry's slender waist. "Of course I'd want to go. I want to meet your friends, and get to know them. Is that so wrong?"

Harry shook his head, but he still wasn't looking at him. "I just don't think that it's a good idea," he muttered, hands playing with the front of Draco's robes, plucking at the seams. His brow was furrowed, and the Hero was biting his lip uncertainly.

Draco frowned, using one hand to smooth away the furrowed lines on Harry's brow. "Why? Is there something going on that I don't know about?"

Harry tensed in his arms, and Draco's frown deepened. He didn't like to see Harry so nervous, so something _had_ to be wrong. And it seemed that he was somehow involved.

"Harry, you know you can tell me anything," Draco said gently, trying to get the other man to look at him.

After a moment, Harry finally turned, and his eyes were clear and bright with worry. "What if you fall off your broom?" Harry asked, genuine concern in his features, his voice both pressing and urgent. "I don't want you to fall off your broom and die."

Draco blinked. Was _that_ all it was? He nearly laughed, but realized that he'd just insult Harry's worry by doing that. Instead, he smiled indulgently down at the Hero and placed a soft kiss on Harry's forehead, wondering where on Earth Harry had come up with the idea that he'd fall off his broom and die when it was _Harry_ who was always doing the near-death stunts in the air.

"Harry, we've played Quidditch together before, and I am amazing at it, if you fail to remember correctly," he said jokingly. Harry snorted at his compliment to himself, but seemed to relax just the tiniest bit. Draco took that as a good sign and continued.

"And I promise you, Harry James Potter, that I most absolutely _will not_ fall off the broom and die because of going splat on the ground. I'm a Malfoy, remember? We'd never accept such a pathetic way of dying."

Harry smiled for a second, before the smile faded and was replaced yet again by that frown. "Just let me put some charms on you so you absolutely will not die if you fall off your broom, okay?" Harry asked, blinking up at him eagerly with worry-filled eyes.

Draco raised his eyebrows at the odd request, but complied, standing still as Harry waved his wand over him, non-verbal spells lacing together around Draco until he could almost _see_ the field of protection buzzing around him. Draco wondered why the heck Harry thought he'd need so many protection spells around him when they were only going to fly around a _Quidditch Pitch,_ not a battlefield, but didn't question Harry's rather odd behavior. The Hero had been acting strange ever since he'd read that note from Weasley, and Draco didn't want to push. He knew Harry would tell him when he was ready, after all.

"Alright," Harry said finally, finished with his complicated wandwork at last. Draco thought there must be at least _fifty_ charms layered over him one on top of the other, and idly thought that he probably wouldn't be harmed even if he were attacked by a whole _troupe_ of Death Eaters, much less from just falling off his broom, just from the sheer amount of magic Harry had cast over him.

"I'll get our brooms. You can borrow my extra one, if you want?"

Draco nodded, and Harry walked down the corridor and rummaged through a closet, before coming up with the same Firebolt that Draco remembered him to have used back in school, and a new, sleek black broom with gold filigree and gold-tipped twig ends.

Harry held out the black broom to Draco, keeping the Firebolt for himself. Looking at Draco seriously one last time, Harry hesitated before handing the broom over. "You're sure you want to go, Draco? I can cancel if you want."

Draco shook his head and accepted the broom with a smile. "No, I'm sure, Harry. It'll be fun. Don't worry, there's no way I'll fall off my broom and die. Everything will be fine."

Harry shot him an inexplicable look; part amused and part worried, before Harry grabbed Draco by the wrist and Draco felt the familiar squeezing sensation of Apparition as they went to wherever Weasley and the others mentioned in that letter were gathered. All Draco knew of the place was that Harry had been there before, and that it was out in the countryside.

Draco felt a momentary tingle of apprehension; Yaxley and the others would have the perfect opportunity to get him out there, in the middle of the countryside, with probably not another establishment for miles around. But Draco dismissed the idea as he felt solid ground underneath his feet, stumbling a little as he came out of the Apparition before Harry steadied him with a gentle hand. Draco shot Harry a grateful smile, and decided that if Yaxley decided to attack, then he'd worry about that when it came. For now, he just wanted to be with Harry.

* * *

Harry narrowed his eyes as he spotted the red hair of his best friend even across the Pitch. Walking forward with purposeful strides, Harry gripped Ron's arm and pulled him aside, before anybody could even do anything to stop him. Harry knew Draco was looking at him oddly, and that the man knew something was going on. Harry had to admit, lying had never been one of his strong points, and he'd nearly blown his cover back in the kitchen when he realized exactly what Ron meant in his note inviting him to take Draco along for a quick game of 'Quidditch'.

"Just what the hell are you doing?" Harry hissed, making sure his voice was quiet enough that Draco and the others Ron had brought wouldn't be able to hear them.

Ron frowned, perplexed at Harry's reaction. "This is our case, mate. If those Death Eaters aren't gonna make a move, then it's best to make _ours_ eh? Besides, that Muggle zoo trip you took him on didn't work to lure them into attacking, so we had to do _something_ that'll make them come out from their blasted lurking around."

Harry stepped forwards, getting into Ron's personal space. His hand reaching up to grab the front of Ron's collar, Harry scowled up at the confused blue eyes of his mate. "_I'm_ the leader of this case, Ron," he whispered, throwing a look behind him to check that nobody was close enough to hear their conversation. "_ I _decide when it's time to make our move or not. And this blasted plan of playing _Quidditch _out in the middle of nowhere is _not_ a good idea to lure the Death Eaters out. We may have Draco as our bait, but we are not authorized to allow harm to come upon him."

Ron frowned and shrugged. "There're always casualties, Harry," he said nonchalantly. "Besides, it's not like Malfoy there's gonna be seriously hurt. Those Death Eaters will come out, we'll attack, and go back home with another case completed. It's not that hard to understand, Harry. You've never been so protective of bait before."

Harry swallowed his next retort, realizing that his friend was right. He _hadn't_ ever been so protective of bait before; usually, _he_ was the one leaping at chances to lure out those they needed to capture, not the other way around. But this time was different. Harry didn't know why, but the thought of Draco getting hurt because he had tricked him into it made him queasy with guilt.

Harry bit his lip and slowly released his grip on the front of Ron's robes. Sighing, Harry dropped his gaze. "I don't know, Ron," he said quietly. "I just don't like it. I don't like this at all."

Ron's hand was on his shoulder, giving him a reassuring squeeze. "Hey, I don't know what's going on between you and Malfoy, but from the looks of it, Malfoy's come to matter to you." Harry looked up sharply and saw that Ron was slightly pale and forcing the words out from between clenched teeth, as if he couldn't bear to actually say them out loud. "But you have to focus on the mission, Harry. Malfoy may be special to you, but work comes first. This case has been dragging on too long; we just need to wrap it up quickly, once and for all."

Harry frowned, but reluctantly admitted that Ron's logic was sound. There was nothing he could do. Malfoy was bait, and that was it. Harry was just using Malfoy to complete this case, and after the case was finished, there would be no more need for Malfoy to be involved in his life.

Harry closed his eyes for a moment, fighting off the nausea that accompanied that thought. Malfoy was no longer just bait, Harry knew. Malfoy had turned into Draco, that funny, brilliant man that Harry had managed to befriend. Draco, who trusted him implicitly. Draco, who accepted Harry for who he was. Draco, who somehow managed, despite all the faults Harry knew he possessed, to love him.

Shaking his head, Harry nodded and looked back up. "All right," he said, his voice steady even as something inside him seemed to crack. If Draco got hurt, Harry knew that he would never forgive himself. "We'll play. You have a plan, Ron?"

Ron nodded, glad to see that the man he knew as his best mate and Auror partner was back. Ron had his own suspicions about the growing relationship between Harry and Malfoy, but he kept them to himself. Harry deserved happiness, Ron agreed wholeheartedly to that, but at the moment, any relationship Harry had with Malfoy was doomed for failure. They had to wrap up this blasted case, get those Death Eaters under lock and key, before Harry could really be with Malfoy. Ron grimaced at the thought of his best friend in the arms of the pale ferret, but decided that as long as Harry was satisfied, he had no right to complain.

He just hoped that Harry knew what he was doing here.

"Right. Everybody here, including me, has had a modified Disillusionment Charm on them already. Those Death Eaters lurking around won't be able to see us, but Malfoy and the rest of us will be able to see each other. We'll have to put one on you, too, so that those Death Eaters will only see Malfoy alone on the Pitch. That'll be the perfect time for them to attack, and when they reveal themselves, we come in and capture them all."

Harry nodded, admitting that the plan was advantageous to them. There was only one slight problem, and Harry had spotted it right away. "Draco will be in danger, though, if he's the only one that the Death Eaters can see."

Ron furrowed his brows and frowned. "Harry, this is a field case. We're pursuing Death Eaters that have escaped the Azkaban toll. This is no time to be worrying about a single person; just think what those Death Eaters can get up to when they're on the loose, of all the other people they can kill."

Harry winced and nodded, letting Ron tap him on the head and shuddering as the raw-egg feel of the Charm covered him from head to toe. "Fine," he acquiesced, vowing to himself that he'd keep an eye on Draco throughout the game. Harry knew Draco could take care of himself, but it was never a bad thing to be too careful. Harry had seen too many people die in the War, too many people that were close to him, that he loved. Harry had put extra defensive spells on Draco already, invisible wards layered over the other man so that no malicious spell would be able to get past. But Harry knew that it wouldn't be enough, that his woven shields wouldn't hold against a bombardment from all the Death Eaters that were after Draco.

Harry just hoped that the lingering remains of Voldemort's regime would tear no more of his loved ones away from him.

* * *

Draco was burning with curiosity, and a small part of jealous anger. Harry had taken the Weasel aside right after they'd Apparated onto the Pitch, and they'd had some sort of argument there. Draco could see from Harry's slightly slumped shoulders that he'd been forced to give in, and Draco had to fight off the urge to argue with the Weasel to let Harry have his way, whatever it was.

Harry and Weasley returned to their little group together, Harry not meeting his questioning gaze. Draco immediately stood beside Harry once they'd returned and wound a discreet arm around Harry's waist, trying to give the smaller man his support. Harry tensed at first, but gave in with a sigh and leaned close. Draco let a warm smile flit over his face, glad that Harry wasn't pulling away, at least.

"Okay, so let's divide into two teams," Weasley announced with a clap of his hands. "Since we're not enough to make two full teams, we'll have no Beaters, two Chasers, one Keeper and a Seeker on each side. Okay, everybody. Divide up!"

The group of Aurors from Harry's workplace slowly milled into two rough teams, including Weasley. Harry gave Draco a small smile. "Guess we'll be the Seekers, huh, Draco?" he said. "Just like old times."

Draco smirked, remembering all the games they'd played together back at Hogwarts. "Better watch out, Harry," Draco taunted, trying to get Harry to cheer up from the slight despondency he'd fallen into, "Or that straight-win reputation of yours will be crushed by my outstanding amazingness."

Animation seemed to return to Harry's eyes at the challenge. Draco smiled to himself; nothing could get Harry more excited than Quidditch; it had been Harry's passion ever since they'd been in Hogwarts. "Not bloody likely, Draco," Harry snorted. "You were never once able to best me."

Draco laughed at the cheeky response. "Cocky, aren't we?" he remarked, sauntering over to join one of the teams and smirking. "We'll see you singing a different tune after I beat your ass in this game."

Harry just raised his eyebrows. "Let's see you try."

* * *

"Do we attack?"

"No, of course not, Dolohov, you idiot. Remember the plan? Two days to get Potter to fall in love with Malfoy. There's still one full day left."

"Yeah, you idiot. There's still one full day left."

"But he's _right there!_ Alone, as well! There won't be a better chance to attack."

"No, I'd bet my entire vault in Gringotts that Potter and his fellow Aurors are around here somewhere. Malfoy might seem to be alone on that Pitch right now, but it's a trap for us, clear as day."

"… Wow, Rookwood. You actually seem to have developed some powers of perception. Be careful not to overload your brain."

"Yeah. Be careful not to overload that little brain of yours."

"_Hey!_ You take that back right now, Carrows, or I'll curse you until you beg at my feet."

"Like you can, Rookwood. We're way stronger than you; everybody knows that. You're just a weak little small-fry like Dolohov."

"Yeah. Everybody knows that you're just a weak little small-fry like Dolohov."

"Wait, why am _I_ also a small-fry?"

"_Why you little – _I swear, Carrows, you two are going down."

"Ha. Is that a threat, Rookwood?"

"Yeah. Is that a threat?"

"Don't just ignore me! Say that I'm a small-fry again, I dare you!"

"Dolohov, shut up. You were sent to monitor the new recruits last meeting, so just shut your mouth or else you'll be sent out again."

"Yeah. You'll be sent out again."

"Shut it, Carrows! That was only a one-time thing. Besides, _you two_ were sent out to monitor the new recruits plenty of times as well before! Remember that time when –"

"Don't bring that up, Dolohov. We'll really curse you if you keep it up. Just stop bitching and shut up like a nice little small-fry."

"Yeah. Like a nice little small-fry."

"_Why you –"_

"_Silence."_

"… Yes Yaxley."

"Now, I agree with the Carrows –"

"_What?_ Yaxley, why would you agree with these two –"

"_Are you interrupting me, Dolohov?"_

"… No. Forgive me, Yaxley."

"Be careful not to do it again. Otherwise, I'll let the new recruits try out those new curses they'd been learning on _you._"

"… Forgive me."

"Right. Now, I agree with the Carrows. There's still one full day left to let Malfoy try and make Potter fall for him. We should stick with the original plan."

"But _why,_ Yaxley? We have a perfect chance right here! Malfoy's alone, occupied, and vulnerable! Have you forgotten our vow to avenge our Lord? Malfoy's the only reason Potter was able to bring down someone so mighty as our Lord, and he _must_ pay. We're supposed to torture him, kill him, and make him scream in such pain that even his soul will be in agony. We're not a bunch of bloody matchmakers trying to get Malfoy and Potter to fall in love!"

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I agree with Dolohov. I don't see the point in waiting until Potter falls for Malfoy."

"Shut up. What would you know, Rookwood?"

"Yeah. What would you know?"

"_Think,_ you imbeciles. Think. After Malfoy, who do you think our next target will be? After Malfoy is dead, all those who dared to betray the Dark Lord will have been vanquished. Who do you think our target after that will become, hmm?"

"Uh, the Ministry, so we can continue upholding our Lord's ideals until he is resurrected from the dead once more?"

"Dolohov, I really wonder if you actually possess a brain. If you do, _use it_ before you open that mouth of yours."

"Ha, Dolohov. You just got dissed by Yaxley."

"Yeah. Ha."

"Now, any other ideas on whom the next target will be?"

"… Potter?"

"Correct, Rookwood. Potter. After Malfoy, we will be going after Potter. And how better to start the Potter chase when Potter is already weakened by Malfoy's betrayal? _That_ is why we're waiting for Potter to fall for Malfoy. _That_ is the true aim. Do you understand now, you dimwits?"

"Hey, Yaxley, it's not fair to call us dimwits as well, since it was our idea in the first place."

"Yeah. It was our idea in the first place."

"Inconsequential detail. Now, do you _understand?"_

"… Yes Yaxley."

"Good. So we'll hold off our attack and go with the original plan. They have one more day of freedom before we write that letter. Understood?"

"… Understood."

* * *

Draco urged his broom faster, forward, the tiny golden ball fluttering just out of reach. Leaning forwards, Draco pressed the broom on, gaining just that tiniest bit of extra speed that he'd needed. The Snitch was within range; his fingers were just about to close over that little ball…

Before another hand snatched it away at the very last second.

The game stopped around them as the Snitch was caught. They'd just ended the fifth game, and the late afternoon sunlight streamed across the tall grass of the countryside. Draco slowed his broom from his breakneck speed until he was just hovering in the air, glancing back to see Harry smiling victoriously at him with the Snitch fluttering in his grip. Draco smiled back. It was the fifth game, and Harry's fifth win. Every time Draco almost nearly had the Snitch in his hands, Harry had managed to claim it for himself. Draco couldn't even begrudge the Hero for his wins; Harry's talent at flying was obvious, even as he just hovered in place. It was as if Harry had been born to fly.

"Still think you can beat me, Draco?" Harry called, smirking.

Draco sighed dramatically and drifted closer to the Hero on his broom, sidling up until he was hovering alongside the man in the air. "I have to admit, I've been forced to realize your superiority in this particular field," he said formally, before his hand shot out and he yanked Harry off his broom, pulling the smaller man onto his own. Harry yelped at once and struggled, but Draco held him tight until Harry got his balance back on the new broom, Draco's hand around his waist holding him in place. Harry's Firebolt, now without a rider, drifted down until it settled softly onto the ground of the Pitch below.

"But now I've caught _you,_ so I'm the winner here," Draco chuckled into Harry's ear. His arm tightened around Harry's form in front of him, not caring about the other Aurors that were looking at them both with raised eyebrows and surprise at the treatment of their Hero.

Harry craned his neck back and stared reproachfully at him. "You know-" he began, but was interrupted when Weasley flew up, not remarking upon their strange position at all. Draco raised his eyebrows at Weasley, silently allowing him to speak with a slight, regal nod.

Weasley frowned at his arrogance before the red-haired man turned to Harry. "I'm gonna turn in for the night, mate," Weasley said abruptly across the foot or so of space that separated their two brooms. "We've been playing for _hours,_ and nothing's happening. I doubt that they're even gonna show."

Draco felt Harry immediately relax against his front, and some of the tension within Draco that he hadn't even known he was feeling was abruptly released. He had no idea what Weasley was talking about, but the fact that Harry had just relaxed made Draco satisfied that everything was fine. Harry would tell him if anything was seriously wrong, Draco knew. He trusted Harry, and the other man would never lie about something that involved him.

* * *

Harry sighed in relief. He'd been antsy and distracted ever since they'd started playing Quidditch, and he'd just barely managed to stay focused long enough so that he could catch the Snitch before Draco. Harry knew that if he didn't catch it, Draco would definitely realize something was up. His pathetic excuse for all the defensive spells he'd placed around Draco – that he was worried Draco would fall off his broom and die, of all things – was already evoking enough suspicion as it was.

Harry knew that Ron would never willingly abandon a chase for a criminal unless there was absolutely no chance of any success, so it was with relief and a sense of release when Ron declared that he was going to turn in. They'd been playing for most of the afternoon and it was getting close to evening already; the sun a distant disk on the horizon. After playing five games straight of Quidditch nonstop, Harry knew that the others that had come and played with them were all getting tired. No Death Eaters had so much as been glimpsed in the vicinity, and there was no choice but to accept that Yaxley and the others wouldn't be coming after Draco that day.

The relief Harry felt was purely because he hadn't wanted an important witness to get hurt, he reasoned. He wasn't relieved that the Death Eaters hadn't shown up because he'd been fretting over Draco's safety. No, not at all. After all, it was a part of his job to use Draco to lure out the criminals. That was the only reason he'd let Draco come and live with him in the first place.

Harry swallowed the bitter taste of guilt and turned back to Ron, managing to pull a smile onto his face. "That's great, mate," he called back. "I'm sure 'Mione would be ready with dinner by this time."

Ron and Hermione had been living together for the past year, and Ron smiled wistfully as his thoughts visibly turned towards his girlfriend. "Yeah," he agreed enthusiastically. Nothing could get Ron happier than the prospect of food and some quality time with Hermione, after all. "Yeah, I'm sure 'Mione would be ready with dinner by now. I'll see you tomorrow at the Burrow for dinner, yeah?"

Harry nodded, glad that Ron had stopped thinking about trying to lure out the Death Eaters after Draco for the day. "Yeah. Draco agreed to come." Twisting around on his perch in front of Draco on their shared broom, Harry smiled back at the man holding him tightly. "Right, Draco?"

Draco rolled his eyes, propping his chin on Harry's shoulder. Harry absentmindedly reached back and ran his fingers through the man's hair, eliciting a soft purr.

"As loathe as I am to admit it," Draco said with mock reluctance, "I suppose that I will accept your invitation to dinner."

Ron rolled his eyes and Harry laughed, pulling slightly on Draco's hair to get him to behave. Draco grinned and nuzzled into the crook of Harry's neck, before turning back to Ron, completely serious.

"Thank you for inviting me to dinner in your home, Weasley," Draco said honestly, and Harry could tell Ron was surprised at the ring of truth in Draco's tone. "I really appreciate your kind offer, especially considering our less than enviable relations in the past. I am honored that you have seen fit to extend your invitation to Harry upon me, and I hope that your family will accept me and my gratitude for such a display of goodwill."

Ron stared, slack-jawed, for a second at Draco before he seemed to pull his wits together through a visible effort. Harry beamed at Draco, feeling completely overjoyed that the blond man was being so nice to his friends. Harry didn't really know why it mattered to him so much, but Draco actually making an effort to build relations with Ron and his family made him all warm and happy inside.

"Don't think too much of it, Malfoy," Harry heard Ron mutter in reply, his ears tinged pink. "It's just one dinner, after all."

Draco didn't answer, instead placing his chin on Harry's shoulder again. Ron, shaking his head, waved goodbye to the other Aurors that had played with them that day. "Well, see you around," Ron called, drifting down until he was standing on the ground of the Pitch before Disapparating with a slight crack, no doubt returning home to his girlfriend and his dinner.

"Well, I'm gonna go as well. I swear; my arse is about to fall off from all that exercise."

Harry turned and smiled at the man who'd spoken. "Goodbye, Stevens. Thanks for playing with us today."

The man – Stevens – smiled and waved. "Been an honor, Harry," he replied cheerfully. "You're flying's mighty good. You'd make a brilliant professional Quidditch player, you know that?"

Harry chuckled. "So I've been told many times," he agreed. Stevens sent him one last grin before Disapparating away as well.

* * *

Slowly, Draco watched as the Aurors around them all bid Harry goodbye, Harry responding familiarly to each of them with complete confidence. One or two even held up their hands to him, which Draco responded with a slight nod. Soon, only Draco and Harry were left on the now empty Quidditch Pitch, the late afternoon sun elongating the shadows around them, coloring the world in shades of red and orange.

As soon as the last Auror had left, Draco had felt Harry lean back into him, the dark-haired man closing his eyes as he seemed to unwind. Draco kissed the man's neck, breathing in his delicious scent. "Tired?" he asked softly, unwilling to break the blanket of tranquility that the setting sun produced.

Harry turned and smiled up at him, leaning back into his embrace. Draco smiled when he realized that Harry was back to normal; all that nervous energy from before had disappeared. Draco wondered what Harry had been so distracted about when they'd been playing Quidditch – Draco knew that Harry was more than capable of playing better than he'd done that day. But deciding that it really didn't matter, now that Harry was back to normal, Draco didn't ask.

"Yeah, a bit," Harry admitted, blushing a little at his admission.

"So am I," Draco said truthfully. He'd never played so long before, and the pressure of searching for that tiny golden Snitch was incredibly tasking. Draco looked down at the golden ball Harry still clutched in his fingers, the wings fluttering softly in the slight breeze. "Although I do feel quite proud of my win."

"_Your_ win?" Harry asked with a smirk, looking back up at him. "I believe you meant to say _my_ win, Malfoy."

"Well, _Potter,_ in case you haven't noticed, _I've_ caught you. Thus, it's _my_ win." Draco smirked down at Harry, biting gently on the other man's neck just to prove it.

Harry whined in his arms. "Stop _biting _me, Draco," he grumbled. "I'm not your food."

Draco chuckled, burying his face in the crook of Harry's neck as Draco directed their broom to fly around in lazy circles over the Pitch. "But you smell just like dessert," Draco said, voice muffled as he spoke against Harry's skin.

Harry sighed, but allowed Draco to continue holding him like that, Draco occasionally nipping at his skin when he felt like just breathing in Harry's scent wasn't enough. They flew together as the sun set and the first few stars began to twinkle in the sky, just enjoying each other's company.

"Look, Draco," Harry gasped, pointing up. "The stars are so clear out here, and there're so _many."_

Draco looked up as well, seeing the expanse of night sky above them dotted with millions of pinpricks of light. "The air is purer here," Draco said quietly. "There's no pollution from the Muggles to cover up the night sky."

"It's beautiful," Harry breathed.

Draco looked down at the man in his arms, at how the stars were reflected in Harry's dark green eyes. "So are you," Draco murmured, resting his cheek against the top of Harry's head. He could feel Harry blushing, but they continued on in companionable silence, the stars watching them from overhead.

Finally, the silence was broken when Draco's stomach let out a loud growl.

Harry twisted back and looked at him with raised eyebrows. "Hungry, Draco?" he asked lightly, unable to stop the smirk that hovered around his lips.

Draco rolled his eyes, glad of the darkness so Harry couldn't see his own blush. "A little," Draco admitted, wanting to preserve at least some of his dignity.

Harry laughed out loud; leaning back and giving Draco a light kiss on the tip of his nose. "Don't worry, I made pot roast for tonight. That'll be enough, I hope?"

Draco snorted and guided their broom gently down towards the ground of the Pitch, where Harry picked up his Firebolt from amidst the tall, waving grass. "As long as I can have you for dessert," Draco said, unable to get Harry's amazing pastry smell out of his head.

Harry laughed again, taking Draco by the hand. "Nope, but you can have some apple pie that's left from yesterday if you want."

Draco pretended to pout, but he was delighted Harry still had some of his favorite pie. "I suppose the pie will do," he said reluctantly. "But you taste even better than the pie."

Harry smiled widely up at him a second before he turned, Disapparating along with Draco into the night. Not a trace was left on the field that they had ever been there, but for a few footsteps on the mud and some crumpled grass.

None of them knew that just a few yards away, watching the entire scene, were the Death Eaters that were eagerly awaiting the time when the could finally take Draco Malfoy's life.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Sorry it's so late! Well, at least this chapter is pretty long, in comparison to some of the others :P

Okay, I predict about… let's see… four to five chapters left? Thanks to everybody who reviewed so far! It's always nice to read comments and feedback. I'm really sorry about the inconsistent updates… but I _did_ warn you guys a couple of chapters back that I won't be able to update regularly (.–)


	10. Dinner with the Weasleys

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any characters or settings mentioned in this story. This is a non-profit fanfiction, and all named characters and settings are the copyrighted property of J.K. Rowling.

* * *

It was the night of the Weasley dinner. Harry was downstairs putting the final touches on the large chocolate cake that he'd made for dessert that evening at the Burrow, while Draco was getting ready in his bathroom. Harry had lent him some casual clothes that he could wear for the evening, assuring him that he'd look perfect in anything. Draco fidgeted, surprised that he was actually feeling _nervous. _He was about to go into a gathering of the Weasels, people Draco had never expected, nor wanted, to know or to get along with.

Until now.

Draco scowled at himself in the bathroom mirror, trying to get his godforsaken hair to lie _flat_ already. He could swear that Harry's messy tangles were somehow infecting his own hair with their sheer proximity – that stupid curl at the back just would not _obey_. Casting yet another useless hair care charm on his platinum blond head, Draco rolled his eyes and gave up. Whatever. It wasn't like he was trying to make a good impression on the _Weasleys_ or anything.

Stopping with his hand on the bathroom door, Draco turned to glance back at his reflection one more time, his eyes immediately zeroing in on that single curl that stood up at the back like it had a mind of its own. Sighing in exasperation Draco turned back to the mirror and took out his wand again, casting all the hair charms he knew of. Draco couldn't fathom why on earth he was preparing with such attention for just one simple dinner at the Weasley house, but he knew Harry wanted this night to be successful. He knew Harry was excited that he would meet all the Weasleys, and that Harry wanted them to all get along. Harry wanted it, so Draco swore he would try his best.

Bloody hell. He was starting to sound like Harry, what with all his self-sacrificing ideals and all that sentimental stuff. Draco rolled his eyes, feeling the corners of his lips twitch up into a small smile. Harry always had been able to influence him like that. Before, Harry had always brought out the worst in Draco when they'd been rivals at school. Now, though, it seemed Harry was managing to bring out the best.

Staring at himself in the mirror, Draco fought the urge to shatter it. That bloody stupid _curl. _Damn it. He was already slightly late, but that stupid curl just wouldn't settle down! No matter what spells he tried, it just didn't work! Draco clenched his hand, feeling the wood of his wand dig into his skin. His nerves were already stretched with the prospect of actually having to be _nice_ to the Weasleys, and this was _not_ helping.

There was a soft knock on the bathroom door. "Draco? Are you ready?" Harry's voice was eager, and Draco could imagine the man standing on the other side of the door, nearly bouncing on the spot in excitement. Shit. He'd been taking so long that Harry had come up looking for him.

"Yeah…" Draco said uncertainly, pulling at that particular lock of hair that was severely bugging him. "Well, the door's open. You can come in, if you want."

Harry came in almost immediately after Draco's words. "What's wrong?" he asked with a frown. "You're sounding unhappy."

Draco turned to face the other man. Harry was dressed in a checkered shirt open at the front with a black shirt underneath, the long sleeves rolled up halfway. Dark blue jeans fit snugly on the man's hips, and Draco couldn't help but peer down. _Merlin_, but Harry's arse was _perfect._ It was the first time Draco had seen Harry wear Muggle clothing that didn't consist of baggy sweaters or oversized shirts, and Draco almost wished that he hadn't seen. Now, he couldn't get that vision out of his mind.

"Draco? What's the matter?" Harry asked again, frowning now too at having to repeat himself while Draco had been preoccupied with looking at his arse.

Draco snapped to attention, feeling himself slowly turning red. _Focus, Malfoy, focus, _Draco thought to himself. _We're going to the Weasley den; you can't be having thoughts about Harry's arse when you're with the Weasels, for Merlin's sake. They'll kill you on the spot if they know you're thinking about putting your hands on their precious surrogate family member._

"Uh, my hair won't stay flat," Draco said, forcibly pulling his eyes up away from the regions of Harry's wonderful, perfect arse. Turning and pointing at that damn curl that was giving him so much trouble, Draco scowled at his reflection in the mirror. "It's like that no matter what I try."

Harry raised his eyebrows, his full lips twitching up into an amused grin. "Is that all, Draco?" he asked. "From the way you were scowling, I'd have thought that the world was ending."

Draco pouted. "My hair's important," he mumbled, crossing his arms and looking away.

Harry leaned up and kissed him quickly on the cheek, moving back before Draco had time to turn shocked eyes towards the other man. "Don't worry, Draco, I think that it makes you look cute," Harry said with a smile, running his fingers through Draco's hair in that particular way that he loved. Draco felt some of his anxiety ebbing, but his dissatisfaction remained.

"A Malfoy is never _cute," _Draco growled. "We are handsome, intimidating, and regal. We are never something so plebian as _cute."_ At Harry's pointed look, Draco shrugged helplessly. "Besides, it's bugging me."

Harry snorted and rolled his eyes, going over to the sink and wetting his hand. "Alright, alright Draco. It's just a bit of hair. Nothing that some water won't solve." So saying, Harry patted the back of Draco's head with his wet hand, flattening the obstinate curl until it was perfectly aligned with the rest of Draco's hair. Draco gawked.

"How did you _do_ that?" he asked in astonishment, marveling at the ease with which Harry had solved the problem that he'd been fruitlessly pitting himself against for the better part of the past half hour. "I mean, _none_ of my spells were working!"

Harry laughed. "Sometimes, it's better to do things the Muggle way, Draco," Harry said cheekily, grinning.

Draco sighed, pretending to be exasperated. "Dear me. How far have I fallen to have to depend on _Muggle_ ingenuity?"

Harry snorted, not bothering to reply. He knew Draco didn't really mean it anyways; if not for Muggles and crossbreeding, the magical race would have died out long ago. "Whatever, Draco. Now, are you ready?"

Draco checked his reflection one last time, making sure everything was perfect. Practicing his signature sneer and seeing that it was up to standard, he nodded once and took a deep breath.

"What if they don't like me?"

He cursed himself. Where the hell had that come from? A Malfoy was above such weak sounding questions. They were never worried whether people would _like_ them or not; _they_ were the ones who others struggled to gain favor with. Draco quickly glanced at Harry and looked away, not wanting to see the condescension there for his idiocy.

But Harry just walked up to him, gently putting a hand up to his cheek. Despite himself, Draco looked down into Harry's gentle green eyes, holding none of the censure that he'd expected to see. Instead, there was only warmth, a soft, soothing green that calmed Draco's nerves.

"Don't worry," Harry replied with a smile. "They're gonna love you."

Being loved by the Weasleys. Even as Harry dragged him downstairs and out to the porch to Apparate to the Burrow, Draco tried to figure out if that was supposed to be a good thing or not.

* * *

"Harry, I really don't think I should do this," Draco muttered right after they appeared on the Weasley's front lawn. Draco glanced once at the ramshackle building that the Weasleys called their 'house' and fought down a reflexive sneer. The 'house', if it could even be called that, was rickety and tilted, and Draco wondered how it could even stay standing – without the magic that supported it, Draco was certain that the tipping structure would collapse on itself right away.

"You'll be fine," Harry said, eagerly walking up to the Weasley porch and knocking on the door. From within, Draco could hear voices shouting out a greeting. The door would open in moments.

"No, Harry, I'm serious. They hate me! Malfoys and Weasleys have _never_ gotten along, not since the times of Merlin himself!" Draco bit his lip, wondering what was wrong with him. He'd never been so nervous about meeting some people before, and come on, it was the _Weasleys._ If anything, _they_ should be _honored_ to meet _him_.

Harry turned to look at him, giving him a bright smile that erased all his brain functions. It almost made Draco wish the man wasn't so damn irresistible that he could stop his thought process with nothing but a look. Because damn, Draco _really _needed his wits about him now.

"Harry, I'm being _serious_ here."

Harry sighed and looked down. "Well, then there's never a better chance to resolve this conflict that you have, right?"

Draco ran a hand through his hair, but before he could answer, the door in front of them swung open on well-oiled hinges, revealing a matronly woman with the signature bright red hair that Draco had hated since childhood.

"Harry, darling!" she exclaimed, enveloping Harry in a large hug before Draco even had time to realize that this was Molly Weasley. "Wonderful to see you again! You should really stop by more often, you know. We all love to have you over."

"Hello, Molly," Harry said, wrapping the arm that wasn't holding the cake he'd made for dessert around the woman. "And thanks for the invitation. Oh, and this is Draco Malfoy. Ron invited him here today as well."

Draco smiled weakly as the woman turned brown eyes to face him. "Um, h-hello, Mrs. Weasley," he stuttered. _What the hell is wrong with you?_ He silently reprimanded himself. Malfoys _never_ stuttered, and it was inexcusable to do so in front of a _Weasley, _no matter that this particular Weasley seemed quite intimidating, despite her short stature_._ "Very pleased to make your acquaintance."

"Malfoy?" the woman repeated, scrutinizing him from top to bottom. Draco did his best not to fidget – he really did. If he shuffled his feet a little, it was only because the summer evening breeze was rather chilly across the back of his neck.

"Yes, Molly. _Draco_ Malfoy," Harry asserted, emphasizing Draco's first name. "Ron told you that Draco would be coming, surely?"

"Yes, I do believe he did," Molly said vaguely, giving Draco one last piercing stare. "Well, any friend of Harry's is welcome in this house," she said, turning warm eyes back on the dark-haired man. "Come in. Dinner's almost ready, and they're all waiting for you in the sitting room." She took the cake that Harry offered her with a smile and stepped back into the house, heading towards what Draco supposed was the kitchen. Draco hesitated just outside the door, wondering if this really was the right thing he should do.

Harry shot a smile over his back as he followed the lady into the Burrow. Watching the man walk confidently into the house, Draco managed to forget all his doubts. If Harry wanted him to be there, then even if he was nervous as hell and rethinking every moment, he would do it anyways.

For Harry.

Draco wondered what on earth he was thinking. But for once, he didn't care. He'd never felt like this before, and he would do anything to stay this way. It didn't matter that all this started out as a lie. Right now, this was more real than anything else Draco had ever done or felt in his entire life.

He just wished that this feeling of utter bliss would never come to an end.

* * *

After the first few awkward greetings and introductions, and one warm hug from Granger, Draco finally managed to feel slightly less out of place with a glass of pumpkin juice in one hand and a biscuit in the other, leaning against the doorway to the Weasley sitting room watching Harry as he smiled and laughed with the rest of the family. Harry had asked him to sit with them, but Draco had politely declined – being inside the Weasley den was already a big step for him, and there was no way he was going to go as far as to actually sit in the middle of a horde of them. Besides, Draco wasn't sure he would be able to keep his eyes, or his hands, off of Harry if he was forced to sit that close to the other man. And Draco was certain that doing anything … naughty… to the Hero was strictly forbidden in the Weasley household.

Instead, Draco watched the homely scene with a warm feeling in his chest, wondering if this was what family truly was like. A fire was roaring in the grate, casting pleasant shadows around the room, and the sound of chatter and laughing was a constant buzz in Draco's ears. Harry sat in the center of the Weasleys, talking, smiling, and looking happier than Draco had ever seen him.

There was a scratching ache at the back of his throat when Draco's thoughts turned towards his own family. His father, who he hadn't seen for three years since the man had been sentenced to lifetime imprisonment in Azkaban. Draco doubted Lucius was even still alive – no one could live very long under the constant torment of the Dementors.

And then there was his mother. His beautiful, sparkling mother. Her death was still fresh in his memory, the blinding green light of the curse hitting her square in the chest while she slept. He'd tried to wake her, to save her – after he'd heard the Manor's wards go off, the first thing he'd done was to rush to her room. But he'd been too late. Yaxley and the others had already gotten there ahead of him, and he'd burst through her bedroom door just in time to see the curse hit her square on. The only thing that slightly eased the pain was the knowledge that she'd at least still been asleep. It would have been a painless death, and her passing would have been quick.

"Hey! Who brought this blond looking statue here into our house?" Draco heard over the soft chatter in the room just before an arm was roughly slung over his shoulders, nearly making him spill his pumpkin juice.

"Yeah, who does this belong to? We're looking for owners or buyers here, anyone up for the offer?"

Draco looked on either side of him, where he was squished in the middle of the Weasley twins Fred and George. Both were grinning from ear to ear, their expressions identical.

Harry laughed from where he was sitting. "That's mine," he said cheerfully, going along with the joke. "Why don't you bring him over?"

Fred and George looked at Harry, both raising their eyebrows suspiciously. "Think we should, Fred?" the one to Draco's left asked.

"I think we should steal him for ourselves," the other one answered.

"We'll bring him back down later," the first one – George called into the sitting room, earning a bright smile from Harry.

Draco had no idea what was going on, and he barely had time to blink before the two enthusiastic twins dragged him away from the doorway of the sitting room, and up the stairs into what Draco presumed was their bedroom. Well, Draco only managed to figure out that it was a bedroom from the presence of two bed-like shapes hidden underneath piles upon piles of sweets, wrapped candy, and toys.

"Well Malfoy, welcome," the one Draco thought was George said in a deep, theatrical tone.

"To our experiments lab," the other one – Fred – finished with a spread hand, gesturing to what Draco could only describe as an incredibly messy, cluttered room full of useless junk.

"Huh," Draco said, trying his best to sound impressed.

George rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, we know it isn't much," he snorted, pushing a pile of miscellaneous items off of what Draco took to be the bed and sitting down with a creak. "But it's the secret to our success."

"Success?" Draco questioned, wondering what he was missing here.

"Of course!" Fred sat down next to his twin, looking shocked. "Don't tell me you haven't heard of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes?"

The name sounded vaguely familiar, and Draco suddenly remembered that they were the prank sweets that the Weasley twins sold all throughout their last years at Hogwarts. What with the War and everything going on at the time, he hadn't had the chance to try any for himself. "Aren't those the candies you sold back in 7th year?" Draco asked, making sure. "Sure they were popular at the time, but I wouldn't call the measly few galleons you made a 'success'."

Both twins looked at him in silence, wide-eyed with wonder. Draco started wondering if he'd managed to offend them until, almost at the exact same moment, they started to grin.

"Yes, of course!" Fred said, getting up and strutting around the room casually, kicking stuff out of his way as he went. "The candy we sold in 7th year. Of course!"

"Completely harmless, and great taste!" George added, nodding quickly. "That's exactly what we're talking about!"

Draco narrowed his eyes. "What are you two getting at?"

Both Fred and George gave him pure, innocent smiles. "Nothing!" they said at the same time. "Nothing at all!" Turning their backs to him, both twins commenced a furious, heated whispering storm from which Draco only managed to catch a few spoken words.

"… _he has no idea…"_

"_Gotta try it…"_

"… _the new prototype?"_

"_Start with the unnoticeable ones…"_

The twins turned around at the same time, startling Draco as his attention had begun to wander.

"Malfoy," George said abruptly, with an air of solemn proclamation. "You must be wondering why we brought you up here."

Draco didn't know where such a question had come from, so he just nodded mutely, raising his eyebrows.

"Well, prepare to be amazed," Fred said, coming up to him and putting a hand on his shoulder. "You must know that very few people have even seen the inside of this room, much less have experienced the honor of participating in our activities."

This was starting to sound a little suspicious. "Activities?" Draco repeated, feeling his fingers twitch as they edged towards his wand in his pocket. _They don't mean any harm,_ Draco forced himself to remember. Yet the predatory glint in both of the twins' eyes told him otherwise.

George grinned. "Yes," he said conspiratorially. "_Activities."_

* * *

"Stop it! Get away from me!"

Draco rushed down the stairs, nearly breaking his neck on the rickety structure in his haste to get away. Both of the twins were pursuing him; he could hear their steps right behind his.

"Come back, Malfoy!" one of them laughed – Draco could never differentiate which one was which. "We're not done with you yet!"

"Yeah," the other one piped in. "You're the best person we've experimented on in a while!"

Draco didn't dare glance back at what other horrors the two devil twins might be hiding up their sleeves. "No way!" he yelled, bursting into the sitting room and disrupting whatever conversation had been going on before. His vision zeroing in on Harry, the only safe person in the entire house, Draco rushed to him and grabbed him by the shoulders, jerking Harry off his seat and using him as a human shield against the advancing Weasley twins.

"Hiding behind Harry now, Malfoy?" the first twin that entered the room said teasingly. "Come on, we don't mean any harm."

"Don't you have a sense of humor?" the other twin said, coming in just moments after his brother.

"Of course I do," Draco retorted. "However, _my _sense of humor doesn't include putting my life on the line as I'm forced to take your inhumane concoctions!"

"Inhumane concoctions?" Harry said, trying to turn in Draco's grip so he could look at him fully. "What do you mean?"

Carefully, Draco released Harry, ready to dodge should the twins make any threatening moves. They'd already forced him to consume far too many of their little 'inventions' without telling him of any of the intended side-effects – he'd had to undergo a severe nosebleed, uncontrollable vomiting, suddenly turning fat, and who knew what the last one they fed him was supposed to do. Thank god the effects didn't last for too long – he'd have been mortified if he had to stand here in front of Harry and the rest of the Weasleys as a fat, vomiting nightmare with a severe nosebleed.

"Draco…?"

Draco focused on Harry and suddenly realized that the other man was looking curiously up at him. The entire room was silent; all the red-haired Weasleys gathered staring at him in shock. Even Granger had her mouth hanging open.

"What?"

Harry pressed his lips together, as if trying to force himself not to laugh. "Um… Do you realize that your hair…"

Draco's hands immediately lifted to his head, patting at his hair to make sure there was nothing wrong. "What about my hair?" he asked nervously. Nothing _felt_ wrong with it – every strand was perfectly in place, no stray curls sticking out – but that didn't mean that nothing _wasn't_ wrong. Not if Harry had mentioned it like that.

"… is purple." Harry finished, ending on a barely concealed snort.

Draco took a moment to piece that together.

"_WHAT?_" he screamed, grabbing his wand and Summoning a mirror. He wailed in horror at his reflection. "_MY HAIR IS PURPLE!"_

The two Weasley twins fell to the ground, howling with laughter. Even the rest of the Weasleys gathered dissolved into chuckling. Draco was too preoccupied with the state of his _hair_ to care much, but no matter what he did, the color wouldn't go away.

"Weasley, Weasley," Draco said stonily, addressing the two Weasley twins who were by now rolling around and clutching their stomachs. "_What did you do to me?"_

"Simple hair-change candy, from the looks of it," Harry said, picking up a wrapper that had fallen from one of the twins' hands. "It's called Rainbow Raisin."

"Rainbow-" Draco said faintly, feeling weak at the knees.

Harry looked at him again and Draco could just _see_ the laughter in his eyes. "Oh," he said nonchalantly. "It seems your hair's blue now."

"_Blue?"_

"And now it's slowly turning magenta, I think," Granger piped in. Draco really _was_ weak at the knees now, falling gracelessly back into the overstuffed Weasley armchair that decorated the middle of their sitting room.

"Don't worry, Malfoy," said one of the older Weasley brothers – Charlie, Draco thought his name was. "It's a good color on you."

That, of course, brought out a whole new round of snickers from the rest of the people assembled. Even Harry was laughing, his green eyes warm.

"He's right," Harry said jokingly. "Even I might fall for you now."

Draco felt a tiny bit better. Well enough, at least, that he snatched the Hero by the wrist and dragged him down until he was sitting in his lap. "I thought you already did?" Draco asked possessively.

One of the twins wolf-whistled, eliciting a round of applause from the rest. Draco looked up in surprise – he'd been sure that the Weasleys would hate him for 'dirtying' their precious Harry. Not that he particularly cared what they thought; he'd only been worried about how Harry would feel when his entire surrogate family was against the idea of him being with Draco.

"Don't worry. They know I'm gay," Harry whispered in Draco's ear by way of explanation. "And they've already suspected why you're here with me."

"They accept me?" Draco whispered back, unable to hide the shock in his tone.

Harry leaned in and gave him a quick peck on the temple. "Not really," he admitted, blushing slightly in embarrassment. "But they know better than to argue when I've made my choice."

Draco felt a wide grin spread over his face. _They know better than to argue when I've made my choice._ And Harry had chosen _him._ Grabbing Harry by the collar, Draco pulled Harry down for a real kiss this time, keeping the Hero until they were both out of breath. This time, the room erupted in cheers, the two twins wolf-whistling over the din.

"Go for it, Malfoy!" Draco heard somebody yell. Surprisingly, Draco thought that it might've almost sounded like Ron Weasley.

* * *

The dinner passed much better than Draco had dared hope, with the Weaslette arriving halfway through and surprising everyone. As promised, Harry hadn't told a soul about her attendance for the evening. The Weasley family had been incredibly welcoming to Draco, even including him in the dinner conversation and steering clear of any topics that he might have wished to avoid. It was very late in the evening by the time he and Harry were saying their last goodbyes, getting ready to leave.

"You'll come again soon, right Harry?" one of the Weasley twins said hopefully by the door. "It's always more fun when you're here."

Harry smiled. "Of course, George. It's been great to see you again."

"Oh, and bring Malfoy next time too, okay?" the other twin reminded him. "We've got plenty of other new products that he can test out for us."

Draco shuddered. "Not on your life," he muttered.

Fred laughed, hearing his words. "No," he agreed pleasantly. "On _yours."_

Harry gave Draco a mischievous smile. "Don't worry. I'll drag him here myself if I have to."

"Make sure you do that, Harry!" George yelled. "Bye!"

Harry waved as they walked away from the Burrow and Draco rolled his eyes, deigning to farewell the Weasley house with a polite little nod. Harry snorted at his behavior, stopping at the Apparition point a few hundred feet away from Weasley property.

"Now that wasn't so bad, was it?" Harry asked teasingly, looking up at Draco. Draco looked down at the other man, the moonlight gilding his hair silver and making his eyes gleam in the darkness.

"No," Draco said quietly, feeling his voice getting husky. "No, it wasn't."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Ugh. I realize it's been literally _forever_ since I updated... And for that I'm SO FREAKING SORRY! Life's just been... well, you know. Life. Anyways, I can't say for sure, but there should be another update in the next two weeks...

Well, other than that, enjoy the chapter 3


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